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THE    PILGRIMS'    MONUMENT. 


LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH 


BY 

FRANCES    A.  HUMPHREY 

Author  of  "  The  Children  of  Old  Park's  Tavern"  and 
"  Dean  Stanley  with  the  Children." 


1  Hail  to  thee,  thou  little  ship  Mayflower! 
.  .  .  Honor  to  the  brave  and  true!  " 

—  THOMAS  CARLYLH 


BOSTON  AND   CHICAGO 

Congregational  .Suu&uii-^cbool  iinb   publishing  .Sorktn 


COPYRIGHT,  1890, 
BY  CONGREGATIONAL  SUNDAY-SCHOOL  AND  PUBLISHING  SOCIETY. 


Co  lElla  Jatman  $ratt. 

MY  DEAR  FRIEND  :  — 

It  gives  me  great  pleasure  to  link  your  name,  so  dear 
to  the  children  of  our  country,  with  mine,  in  dedicating  to 
you  this  little  book  written  for  the  purpose  of  interesting 
them,  if  I  may,  in  the  work  and  fortunes  of  their  fore- 
fathers. 

F.  A.  H. 

BOSTON,  January  8,  1890. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

CHAPTER    I. 

ON   THE   WAY   TO   PILGRIM   TOWN 7 

CHAPTER  II. 
AN  EARLY  MORNING  ON  COLE'S  HILL 21 

CHAPTER  III. 
TEDDY  OF  CLAM-SHELL  ALLEY .  .  31 

CHAPTER  IV. 
THE  SWEETE  BROOKE  UNDER  THE  HILL  ..,,,„.  43 

CHAPTER  V. 
LITTLE  BESS 56 

CHAPTER  VI. 
THE  STREET  OF  THE  SEVEN  HOUSES 68 

CHAPTER    VII. 

SUZETTE   GIVES   TEDDY   A   HISTORY    LESSON 82 

CHAPTER  VIII. 
To  AND  FRO  IN  PILGRIM  LAND 101 

CHAPTER  IX. 
THE  ADVENTURE  OF  JOHN  BILLINGTON 124 

CHAPTER  X. 
A  WET  EVENING 133 

CHAPTER  XI. 
THE  LAWN-TENNIS  PARTY 155 


vi  CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

CHAPTER    XII. 
LITTLE  BESS  TELLS  THE  STORY 175 

CHAPTER    XIII. 
THE  FIRST  NEW  ENGLAND  THANKSGIVING 193 

CHAPTER    XIV. 
THE  SAD  GLAD  YEAR  OF  1623 206 

CHAPTER    XV. 
THE  LITTLE  GRANDMOTHER'S  RIDE .     224 

CHAPTER    XVI. 
THE  CHILDREN'S  EXCURSION ....    247 

CHAPTER    XVII. 
THE  EQUINOCTIAL 268 

CHAPTER    XVIII. 
A  LARK  WITH  UNCLE  TOM 286 

CHAPTER    XIX. 
THE  DEPARTURE  OF  A  LITTLE  PILGRIM 304 

CHAPTER    XX. 
WESTWARD  Ho! 320 


LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 


CHAPTER   I. 

ON    THE    WAY    TO    PILGRIM    TOWN. 

And  the  heavy  night  hung  dark 

The  hills  and  waters  o'er, 
When  a  band  of  exiles  moored  their  bark 

On  the  wild  New  England  shore. 

—  Mrs.  Hemans. 

and  Suzette  were  seated  in  a  shady 
corner  of  the  upper  deck  of  the  Stamford. 
They  had  arrived  in  Boston  the  night  before,  on 
the  nine  o'clock  western  express,  from  the  Water- 
man Ranch,  Colorado.  They  arrived  tired,  dusty, 
and  cross,  after  the  fashion  of  travelers.  But  a 
warm  bath,  a  supper,  and  a  night's  sleep  at  the 
Tremont  House  had  changed  all  these  conditions 
for  the  better. 

The  friends  who  had  had  them  in  charge  had 
sailed  at  five  that  morning  on  a  European  steamer, 
having  received  the  assurance  of  the  proprietor  of 
the  house  that  he  would  see  the  two  safely  on 


8  LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

board  the  Stamford  and  consign  them  to  the  care 
of  its  captain. 

Refreshed,  and  eager  to  see  what  they  could  of 
this  Boston,  so  old  and  yet  so  new,  they  had  taken 
a  brief  run  upon  the  famous  Common  in  the  early 
morning,  had  skipped  a  handful  of  gravel  across 
the  waters  of  its  historic  Frog  Pond,  and  had 
astonished  a  small  ragamuffin  who  was  sitting 
upon  one  of  its  seats  by  bestowing  upon  him  a 
fifty-cent  silver  coin. 

The  eyes  of  the  ragged  little  fellow  had  followed 
the  two  wistfully  as  they  went  on  a  half-run  down 
under  the  arching  elms  of  the  Park  Street  mall. 
The  green  turf  was  wet  and  the  trees  heavy  with 
a  rain  of  the  previous  night,  and  a  passing  breeze 
sent  a  shower  of  glistening  drops  down  upon 
Dick's  uncovered  head  and  Suzette's  trim  travel- 
ing suit.  But  they  did  not  mind  ;  it  was  only  a 
friendly  challenge  from  the  morning  so  freshly 
bathed  and  sparkling. 

The  eyes  of  a  policeman  standing  by  the  Brewer 
Fountain,  wherein  flocks  of  English  sparrows 
were  bathing,  fell  upon  this  pair  so  gay  and  debo- 
nair. As  they  drew  near,  and  he  met  their  frank 
and  friendly  glance,  he  spoke  :  — 

"  Y'  don't  b'long  to  Boston,  I  '11  bet" 


ON  THE    WAY   TO  PILGRIM   TOWN.  9 

"  No,  we  don't,"  was  Dick's  response.  "  We  're 
straight  from  Colorado,  and  we  never  saw  Boston 
before." 

"  I  thought  so,"  replied  the  policeman.  "  Boston 
boys  V  girls  don't  turn  out  this  time  'n  th'  morn- 
in'  to  walk  on  th'  Common." 

"  Oh,  but  I  should  think  they  would ! "  said 
Suzette,  giving  a  little  skip  expressive  of  her 
supreme  happiness.  "  If  I  lived  in  Boston  I 
should  take  a  walk  on  the  Common  every  morning ! 
It 's  a  splendid  place  for  a  race." 

"  Have  you  be'n  over  t'  th'  Gardings  ?  "  asked  the 
policeman,  his  interest  deepening  in  this  Western 
pair,  so  new  in  his  experience. 

"  No,  we  have  n't,"  was  the  reply. 

"  Well,  if  y'  want  t'  see  somethin'  real  harn- 
some,  jest  go  over  there.  Th'  rhododundrums 
are  out." 

"Is  there  time,  Dick  ?  "  asked  Suzette,  glancing 
up  at  the  clock  on  the  Park  Street  Church.  "  It 's 
six  now,  and  breakfast  at  half-past  '  sharp,'  the 
waiter  said,  you  know,  if  we  want  to  get  to  the 
wharf  in  time." 

"  There  's  time  enough  an'  t'  spare  f 'r  such  fast 
trotters  as  you  be,"  said  the  policeman. 

"Thanks!"  came  from  the  two  simultaneously, 


IO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

and,  with  a  wave  of  Dick's  hat  and  Suzette's  hand, 
they  were  off,  flashing  like  a  pair  of  meteors  across 
the  West  Street  mall,  embowered  in  lindens,  and 
over  Monument  Hill  —  so  called  from  the  monu- 
ment to  the  soldiers  of  '61-64  which  caps  its 
summit. 

It  was  but  a  short  run,  after  all,  across  the 
parade  ground  and  the  pretty  stone  bridge  to  the 
haunt  of  the  "  rhododundrums,"  anglic^  rhodo- 
dendrons. The  Gardens  were  quiet.  Not  a  person 
was  to  be  seen  walking  on  the  brown,  well-kept 
paths.  Plenty  of  English  sparrows  were  flitting 
in  and  out  of  the  shrubbery  and  quarreling  among 
the  pansies  and  crimson-tipped  daisies  and  hyacinths 
with  which  the  beds  were  crowded.  The  small 
blue  lake  rippled  in  tiny  waves  against  its  stone 
curbing,  while  the  pretty  swan-boats  lay  idle  at 
their  moorings. 

Not  many  years  ago  the  restless  tide  of  the 
Charles  River  ebbed  and  flowed  where  these 
lovely  Gardens  are  to-day  —  a  fact  hard  to  realize 
on  such  a  sweet,  sunny  morning  as  was  this  on 
which  Dick  and  Suzette  saw  them  for  the  first 
time. 

"  O  Dick  !  just  look  at  that  !  "  exclaimed  Su- 
zette, pointing  to  one  of  the  small  painted  signs 


ON  THE   WAY  TO  PILGRIM   TOWN.  II 

which  forbid  the  bringing  of  dogs  into  the  Gar- 
dens. "  '  Dogs  not  allowed  on  this  garden.'  Just 
think  of  it !  Why,  if  we  had  brought  Hector, 
they  would  n't  have  let  us  taken  him  in  here! 
What  a  shame ! "  and  her  cheeks  glowed  with 
indignation  that  any  spot  upon  earth  should  be 
thought  too  good  for  her  magnificent  Hector  to  < 
enter. 

Hector  was  an  English  greyhound,  one  of  a 
large  family  of  shepherd,  pug,  pointer,  and  terrier 
dogs  which  were  domiciled  at  the  Waterman  Ranch 
and  were  the  inseparable  companions  of  these  two. 

"  I  should  n't  care  one  bit  for  a  place  that  I 
could  n't  take  a  dog  to  ;  should  you,  Dick  ?  " 

"No,  I  shouldn't,"  was  Dick's  hearty  response. 
"  But  it 's  awfully  nice,  Sue.  Mamma  would  like 
it.  Just  see  how  thick  and  soft  the  grass  is ! 
Would  n't  Hector  and  Juno  tear  over  it  though  ?  I 
don't  suppose  they  let  horses  come  in  either." 

"No — only  iron  ones,"  said  Suzette,  glancing 
somewhat  disdainfully  at  the  big  equestrian  statue 
of  Washington.  She  had  never  seen  any  bronze 
statuary  before,  and  on  the  whole  she  concluded 
she  did  not  like  it.  It  was  black  and  dismal. 
Chiquita,  who  always  shied  at  an  Indian,  would  be 
afraid  of  that  iron  man  over  there,  she  was  sure. 


12  LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

"And  there 's  another  sign,  Dick!  'Keep  off 
the  grass  '  !  Oh  !  "  and  she  skipped  off  the  vel- 
vety turf  upon  which  she  was  walking,  and  which 
seemed  so  nice  and  springy  to  her  feet.  "  What  do 
you  suppose  they  'd  do  to  you  if  they  caught  you  on 
it,  Dick  ?  Shut  you  up  in  prison  ?  And,  Dick," — 
stopping  short  by  a  bed  of  superb  pansies, —  "  I 
don't  suppose  they  'd  let  you  pick  even  one  flower  ! " 

And  in  utter  disgust  with  a  place  where  she 
could  neither  walk  on  the  grass  nor  pick  a  flower, 
romp  with  her  dog  nor  ride  her  horse,  the  free-born 
little  Westerner  turned  her  back  upon  the  Public 
Gardens,  and  walked  across  Charles  Street  back  to 
the  more  democratic  Common. 

Democratic  ;  for,  oh,  joyful  sight  !  right  there, 
on  the  very  thickest  and  greenest  grass  in  the 
whole  parade  ground,  sat  two  jolly  little  girls, 
dirty,  it  is  true,  but  with  the  brightest  of  eyes 
and  the  dimpliest  of  cheeks,  picking  dandelions ! 
Real,  golden  dandelions  !  Such  dandelions  as 
Suzette  had  never  seen  in  her  life  before,  if  in- 
deed she  had  ever  seen  any  ;  dandelions  like 
Wordsworth's  daffodils, 

"A  host  .  .  . 

Continuous  as  the  stars  that  shine 
And  twinkle  on  the  milky  way." 


ON  THE   WAY  TO  PILGRIM  TOWN.  13 

With  a  shriek  of  delight  Suzette  dropped  upon 
the  grass  beside  the  two  little  girls,  and  holding 
up  a  dandelion  to  the  good-natured  policeman  who 
had  told  them  about  the  "  rhododundrums,"  and 
who  was  standing  by  looking  smilingly  on,  said, 
"  I  'd  rather  have  one  dandelion  that  I  can  pick 
than  a  million  rhododendrons  that  I  can't." 

And  then  she  had  a  little  chat  with  the  owners 
of  the  bright  eyes  and  dimpled  cheeks,  and  it  was 
all  about  dandelions.  And  did  they  always  grow 
here,  and  were  they  always  so  plenty,  and  could 
they  pick  as  many  as  they  liked,  and  did  n't  every 
boy  and  girl  in  Boston  come  here  to  pick  dande- 
lions ?  And  was  n't  it  a  funny  name  —  dent  de  lion  ! 
a  lion's  tooth  !  just  because  somebody  thought  its 
leaves  looked  like  lions'  teeth  !  And  did  not  they 
think  them  ever  so  much  prettier  than  the  flowers 
in  the  Gardens,  which  they  could  not  pick  ?  And 
she  had  heard  that  children  made  necklaces  of 
them,  and  did  they  ever  ?  And  were  they  not  like 
golden  stars  or  little  golden  platters,  or  fairy  floors 
for  Queen  Titania  to  dance  upon  ?  —  or  fifty  other 
pretty  fancies,  which  Dick  broke  in  upon  with  the 
information  that  they  had  just  one  minute  and  a 
half  in  which  to  reach  the  Tremont  House. 

And  as  they  hurried  up  the  Beacon  Street  mall 


14  LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

the  two  little  girls  wondered  who  they  could  be. 
And  little  Maggie,  who  had  heard  a  good  deal 
about  saints,  thought  maybe  Suzette  was  a  little 
one,  she  was  so  nice  and  sweet  and  talked  so 
prettily.  All  the  saints  she  knew  anything  about 
were  grown  up,  but  why  could  n't  a  little  girl  be  a 
saint  if  she  were  good  enough  ?  To  be  sure,  she 
was  not  such  a  -very  little  girl  —  such  as  they. 
And  so  we  leave  them  chatting  among  their 
dandelions. 

As  Dick  and  Suzette  walked  rapidly  on,  they 
looked  in  vain  for  their  ragamuffin  of  a  boy.  His 
seat  was  empty ;  he  had  disappeared. 

After  breakfast  came  the  drive  to  the  wharf; 
past  King's  Chapel  and  the  Old  State  House  with 
its  lion  and  unicorn,  and  State  Street,  once  King's 
Street,  where  the  Boston  Massacre  took  place  in 
1770.  There  was  a  distant  glimpse,  too,  of  Faneuil 
Hall,  which  Dick  knew  at  once  from  the  pictures  he 
had  seen  of  it.  Altogether  the  drive  was  full  of 
interest,  and  they  were  almost  sorry  when  they 
reached  the  wharf. 

But  they  were  only  just  in  time.  The  wharf- 
men  had  wheeled  on  the  last  load  of  freight. 
People  were  running  hither  and  thither,  and 
settling  themselves  and  their  baskets  and  bundles 


ON  THE    WAY  TO  PILGRIM   TOWN.  15 

in  the  most  comfortable  places  they  could  find. 
The  man  who  always  arrives  just  as  the  plank  is 
to  be  withdrawn  skipped  over.  Then,  with  one 
deep  breath,  one  loud  "  pouf !  "  the  engine  began 
its  work,  the  Stamford  backed  from  her  moorings, 
and  the  delightful,  delicious  sail  to  Old  Pilgrim 
Town  began,  and,  as  was  remarked  in  the  very 
first  line  of  this  chapter,  "  Dick  and  Suzette  were 
seated  in  a  shady  corner  of  the  upper  deck." 

"There!"  said  Suzette,  looking  joyfully  about 
her,  "  now  I  feel  as  if  we  were  really  on  our  way 
to  Plymouth.  It  has  n't  seemed  one  bit  as  though 
we  were  before.  But  this  —  this  —  why,  we  might 
be  going  to  Camelot,  Dick  ! " 

Allowance  must  be  made  for  Suzette's  enthusi- 
asm, for,  as  we  all  know,  Camelot  was  situated  on 
a  river. 

"  Willows  whiten,  aspens  quiver, 
Little  breezes  dusk  and  shiver 
Through  the  wave  that  runs  forever 
By  the  island  in  the  river 

Flowing  down  to  Camelot." 

But,  as  we  shall  see,  Suzette  had  somehow 
mingled  in  her  day-dreams  the  Knights  of  Came- 
lot with  the  Pilgrims  of  Plymouth,  both  being 
brave  and  true  men,  and  having  taken  evidently 


1 6  LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

the  same  knightly  vow  :  "  To  speak  the  truth ;  to 
maintain  the  right ;  to  protect  women,  the  poor, 
and  the  distressed ;  to  practice  courtesy ;  to  pursue 
the  infidel ;  to  despise  the  allurements  of  ease  and 
safety,  and  to  maintain  each  his  honor  in  every 
perilous  adventure." 

And  so  it  pleased  her  to  fancy  that  this  busy, 
bustling  port  was  something  like  to  that  river 
winding  clearly 

"  Down  to  towered  Camelot." 

At  any  rate,  it  was  all  new,  and  as  near  a  land 
of  poesy  and  romance  as  anything  she  had  ever 
seen.  And  even  to  us,  who  know  it  well,  Boston 
Harbor,  though  not  Camelot,  is  beautiful  and  full 
of  interest,  and  one  of  our  poets  has  rhymed  about 
it  almost  as  charmingly  as  Tennyson  has  of  Came- 
lot. 

"O  bounteous  seas  that  never  fail! 

O  day  remembered  yet ! 
O  happy  port  that  spied  the  sail 
Which  wafted  Lafayette!" 

is  what  Emerson  says  about  it.  And  it  is  in  the 
same  poem  that  these  two  lines  appear  :  — 

"And  twice  each  day  the  flowing  sea 
Took  Boston  in  its  arms." 


ON  THE  WAY  TO  PILGRIM  TOWN.  1>J 

Which  is  certainly  an  extremely  pretty  way  of  say- 
ing that  twice  a  day  the  tides  flow  and  ebb  around 
the  city. 

"That's  so,"  was  Dick's  somewhat  absent  re- 
sponse to  Suzette's  remark.  For  he  was  watching 
the  craft  round  about — the  rowboats,  and  steam- 
tugs,  and  sloops,  and  schooners,  and  barques,  and 
big  ships  that  were  either  moving  slowly  to  their 
anchorage  or  making  their  way  out  into  more  open 
waters. 

It  was  a  scene  full  of  interest  to  the  eyes  of  a 
western  boy  who  had  never  breathed  the  breath 
of  the  salt  sea  before,  and  he  fell  to  wondering  at 
which  of  these  wharves  it  was  that  Boston  gave 
her  famous  tea-party  to  her  royal  mother  in  1773, 
when  the  Indians  dropped  the  chests  one  by  one 
into  the  "laughing  sea." 

And  so  the  Stamford  moved  on,  while  the  sun, 
climbing  higher  and  higher  in  the  sky,  shone 
warmly  upon  hulls  and  sails  and  sent  a  million 
sparkles  of  light  across  the  water.  Past  Forts 
Winthrop  and  Independence  ;  past  the  black  pyra- 
mid of  Nix's  Mate ;  past  Fort  Warren  and  the 
Bug  Light  and  the  Outer  Light ;  past  the 
whistling  buoy  which  moans  with  every  rise  and 
fall  of  the  restless  waves,  —  past  all  these  they 


1 8  LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

steamed  out  into  the  bay,  beyond  which  stretched 
the  blue  of  the  ocean.  For  it  was  blue  that  day  ; 
neither  gray  nor  green  nor  purple,  as  it  often  is, 
but  blue  and  sparkling  and  dimpling  with  smiles, 
giving  a  right  royal  welcome  to  the  two  who  sat 
in  their  shady  corner,  silent,  but  with  eyes  alight 
with  excitement. 

How  wonderful  it  all  was  !  Away  off  there  on 
the  horizon  line  were  tips  of  sails  that  presently 
disappeared,  and  toward  that  magic  line  other 
sails  were  hastening.  To  what  ports  were  they 
bound  ?  To  London  ?  to  Australia  ?  to  Japan  ?  to 
some  sunny,  palm-shaded  island  of  the  tropics  ? 

How  fascinating  it  was  to  watch  them  and 
speculate  concerning  them  ! 

Suzette  at  last  broke  the  silence  with,  "  Oh,  I 
wish  I  could  see  a  mermaid  combing  her  hair, 
Dick ! " 

"Or  a  Triton  blowing  his  shell,"  replied  Dick. 

"Or  Aphrodite  coming  out  of  the  water." 

"  Or  Neptune  driving  his  dolphins." 

"  Or  a  sea-serpent." 

"  Or  a  whale." 

And  then  they  each  drew  a  long  breath  and 
laughed,  and  Dick  said  :  "  It  looks  like  a  prairie, 
only  it  moves  and  sparkles." 


ON   THE    WAY  TO  PILGRIM    TOWN.  19 

"  O  Dick  !  a  prairie !  "  replied  Suzette  reproach- 
fully. 

Well,  it  was  like  a  dream  come  true  as  they 
steamed  along  down  that  lovely  south  shore  and 
came  by-and-by  to  the  Gurnet  with  its  twin  white 
lights.  Around  these  they  swept,  giving  a  wide 
berth  to  the  rocks  lying  along  shore  ;  and  there  on 
the  left  was  the  long  arm  of  sandy  beach  which 


holds  the  harbor  of  Plymouth  in  its  keeping. 
Sand  now,  but  in  1620,  when  Carver  and  Bradford 
and  all  that  brave  Mayflower  company,  with  its 
women  and  children,  rounded  its  point,  it  was 
covered  with  thick,  green  woods. 

As  the  plank  was  thrown  out,  a  brown-bearded 
man  sprang  across  and  made  his  way  to  where  the 
two  were  standing. 

"  Oh,  how  did  you  know  us,  uncle  Tom  ?  "  they 
exclaimed. 

"  Know  you !  "  and   uncle   Tom,    holding  both 


2O  LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

Suzette's  hands  in  his,  stood  off  and  looked  at  each 
in  turn.  "  Know  you  !  Why,  you  are  as  like  as 
two  peas  in  a  pod,  and  look  exactly  like  your 
father  and  mother  both,  as  good  children  ought. 
And  now  show  me  your  luggage  and  we  '11  go 
right  up  to  the  house.  Aunt  Pen  sighted  the 
Stamford  an  hour  ago  with  her  spy-glass  ;  knew 
her  by  her  smoke,  and  has  been  watching  her  ever 
since  and  trying  to  make  you  out." 

As  they  walked  over  the  plank  a  little  figure 
rushed  past  on  to  the  wharf.  As  he  did  so  he 
turned  a  laughing  face  upon  them. 

"It's  the  Boston  Common  boy,"  said  Suzette, 
as  he  disappeared  around  a  corner  of  the  fish- 
market  with  a  whoop! 


CHAPTER   II. 

AN    EARLY    MORNING   ON    COLE'S    HILL. 

Mournfully  sobbed  the  waves  at  the  base  of  the  rocks,  and  above 

them 

Bowed  and  whispered  the  wheat  on  the  hill  of  death.  .  .  . 
Yonder  there  on  the  hill  by  the  sea  lies  buried  Rose  Standish; 
Beautiful  rose  of  love  that  bloomed  for  me  by  the  wayside ! 
She  was  the  first  to  die  of  all  who  came  in  the  Mayflower! 
Green   above   her   is  growing  the  field  of  wheat  we  have   sown 

there.  —  Longfellow. 

AS  soon  as  Suzette  awoke  the  next  morning, 
which  was  at  the  instant  the  sun  shot  his 
first  golden  arrow  into  her  room,  she  jumped  out 
of  bed,  ran  to  a  window,  drew  back  the  curtain, 
and  looked  out. 

As  she  did  so  she  gave  a  quick  cry  of  dismay. 
For  all  the  expanse  of  blue,  sparkling  water  of  the 
day  before  had  vanished,  and  nothing  was  to  be 
seen  but  black  tide  mud,  with  here  and  there  a 
pool  of  water. 

What  strange  thing  had  happened  ?  Eager  to 
tell  Dick  about  it,  she  quickly  dressed  and  ran 
across  the  hall  to  his  room.  He  was  already  up 
and  dressed,  and  answered  her  knock  by  opening 
the  door. 


22  LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

"O  Dick!"  she  exclaimed  breathlessly,  "the 
sea  is  all  gone  !  " 

"Gone,  Suzette?"  and  Dick  looked  at  her  as 
though  he  thought  she  had  lost  her  head.  "  What 
do  you  mean  ?  " 

"Come  down  and  see,  Dick." 

They  ran  down  the  broad  stairs  and  out  under 
the  shade  of  the  pair  of  great  lindens  that  stood 
in  front  of  the  house.  Sure  enough,  it  was  gone, 
and  for  an  instant  Dick  looked  puzzled ;  then  his 
face  cleared. 

"  Why,  it 's  the  tide,  Sue ! "  he  explained.  "  The 
tide  is  out,  you  know."  And  then,  -as  she  still 
looked  a  little  bewildered,  he  added  :  "  Don't  you 
remember  about  the  tides  —  how  they  ebb  and 
flow  ?  When  we  came  the  tide  was  in ;  now  it  is 
out." 

Suzette  gave  a  sigh  of  relief.  "  Oh  !  then  it 's 
coming  back  again.  Of  course  I  know !  What  a 
goosey ! " 

"  The  land's  sake,  child'en  !  be  you  up  ?  "  said 
a  voice.  It  was  that  of  Mehitable,  who  had  come 
to  the  door,  broom  and  dust-pan  in  hand.  They 
turned  to  say  "Good-morning." 

They  had  seen  her  the  night  before,  and  she  had 
told  Jason  afterwards  that  they  were  "the  very 


ON  COLE'S  HILL.  2$ 

pictur'  of  Mr.  Richard  when  he  was  a  boy."  Me- 
hitable's  Mr.  Richard  was  their  father,  and  she 
knew  all  about  his  boyhood,  for  she  had  lived  in 
the  Waterman  family  ever  since  she  had  first  en- 
tered their  service  as  a  girl  of  fourteen,  when 
uncle  Tom,  the  oldest,  was  a  boy  of  six.  She 
spoke  now  in  a  hoarse  whisper. 

"  Doctor  Tom  's  be'n  out  all  night,  up  t'  Mani- 
met,"  she  said.  "Ole  Mis'  Keziah  Holmes  was 
took  with  one  o'  her  spells  in  the  dead  o'  night. 
He  's  sleepin'  now  like  a  baby,  an'  I  should  hate  t' 
have  him  waked  up.  Jason  's  just  driv'  off  th'  ole 
rooster  that  was  crowin'  under  his  winder  like  all 
possess." 

"We're  going  to  have  a  run  before  breakfast," 
said  Dick.  "  When  do  you  have  breakfast,  Me- 
hitable?" 

"At  eight  o'clock,"  answered  Mehitable.  "But 
Jason  and  I  have  had  our  'n.  An'  you  jest  come 
in  an'  git  a  bite  o'  somethin'  warm  fust.  It 's 
dretful  unhealthy  to  go  'round  on  an  em'ty 
stomach." 

The  "bite  of  somethin'  warm"  was  served  by 
Mehitable,  picnic  fashion,  on  the  porch  by  the 
kitchen  door,  and  while  they  ate  she  talked. 

"  Y'  take  after  y'r  pa,"  she  said.     "  Mr.  Richard 


24  LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

was  alwa's  the  beater  fr  gittin'  up  early  an'  goin' 
off  fishin'  or  gunnin',  an'  comin'  home  with  a  lot 
o'  coots  or  a  string  o'  rock  cod  for  supper.  '  Me- 
hitable,'  he  'd  say,  '  I  '11  jest  clean  'em  if  you  '11  fry 
'em.'  Or  mebbe  he'd  want  a  chewder.  'There 
ain't  a  cook  in  Plymouth  can  hold  a  candle  t'  you 
f'r  makin'  chewders,  Mehitable,'  he  'd  say.  But 
lor !  that  was  b'fore  y'r  gran'ther  sent  him  t'  col- 
lidge  —  an'  vacations.  An'  after  he  got  through 
collidge  an'  th'  war,  nuthin'  would  do  but  he  must 
go  travelin',  an'  he  stayed  an'  stayed,  an'  when  he 
come  home  he  fetched  y'r  ma,  and  went  out  to 
that  'ere  ranch.  It 's  consider'ble  of  a  farm,  I 
expect." 

Uncle  Tom's  house  stands  upon  a  high  bluff  to 
the  right  of  Long  Wharf  as  you  come  up  the 
channel,  and  just  across  the  way,  the  sunken  road 
lying  between,  rises  the  twin  bluff  of  Cole's  Hill. 
It  is  prettily  graded  and  grassed  now,  but  not 
many  years  ago  its  slope  was  covered  with  old 
buildings.  The  flat  space  on  the  top,  behind 
which  runs  the  street  called  Carver,  forms  an 
esplanade,  whereon  are  graveled  walks,  with  seats 
from  which  one  can  look  off  over  the  harbor  and 
bay  and  all  along  the  Duxbury  and  Manomet 
shores. 


ON  COLE'S  HILL.  25 

And  here  Dick  and  Suzette  sat  down  upon  a 
seat  under  the  shade  of  a  linden,  for  even  at  this 
early  hour  of  the  morning  the  sun  was  hot. 

"Do  you  remember,  Dick,  that  picture  of  the 
Mayflower  I  liked  so  well  papa  had  it  framed  for 
me  —  the  little  vessel  all  alone  at  anchor,  and  the 
lovely  shores  ? "  asked  Suzette. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Dick.  "  I  remember  the  picture, 
but  this  does  n't  look  much  like  it." 

"  No,  but  I  can  imagine  it,  Dick,"  said  Suzette, 
her  eyes  growing  eager  and  full  of  light,  as  Dick 
was  used  to  seeing  them  when  she  was  going  to 
"make  believe"  something.  "I  can  imagine  it. 
They  have  just  sailed  in  and  cast  anchor,  and 
there  are  'no  friends  to  welcome  them,  nor  inns 
to  entertain  them  or  refresh  their  weather-beaten 
bodies,  no  houses,  nor  much  less  towns,  to  repair 
to,  to  seek  for  succor '  —  that  always  makes  me 
'most  cry,  Dick  ;"  and  her  voice  did  tremble  a  bit. 
"  And  they  had  had  hard  times  on  Cape  Cod, 
wading  about  in  the  snow,  and  the  sleet  freezing 
to  their  clothes  —  for  it  was  winter,  you  know, 
and  not  like  this.  They  found  corn,  to  be  sure,  in 
pretty  colors,  but  the  Indians  shot  at  them,  and 
then  when  some  of  them  were  away  looking  for  a 
place  to  settle,  poor  Dorothy  Bradford  fell  over- 


26  LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

board  and  was  drowned,  and  her  husband  was  one 
of  those  who  were  away. 

"  And  those  who  were  away  looking  for  a  place 
to  settle  came  here  and  liked  it  so  much,  and 
found  such  running  brooks  and  nice  cornfields, 
that  they  went  back  to  Cape  Cod  and  told  the  rest. 
And  then  they  set  sail  and  come  here,  and  I 
think  I  see  them,  Dick ;  and  some  of  them  come 
ashore,  and  Mary  Chilton  comes  with  them,  so 
eager  is  she  to  step  on  the  ground  again,  and  so 
springs  first  upon  the  rock ; J  and  they  look  up 
and  down  and  all  about,  and  there  is  n't  a  house 
here,  —  and  it  is  winter, — but  a  little  clump  of 
pines,  maybe,  where  uncle  Tom's  house  is  now,  and 
blackberry  vines  and  bushes  sticking  out  of  the 
snow  just  here,  Dick,  with  some  oak-trees  and  the 
leaves  all  brown.  And  then  they  go  back  to  the 
Mayflower,  and  tell  them  about  the  'delicate 
springs,'  and  a  'very  sweet  brook'  full  of  fish, 
and  the  land  ready  for  corn  that  the  Indians  have 
cleared  ;  and  so  they  conclude  to  land.  And,  oh  ! 
must  n't  the  children  have  been  glad  ?  for  the 

1  There  are  differing  traditions  in  regard  to  that  member  of  the  May- 
flower company  who  first  set  foot  upon  Plymouth  Rock.  The  descend- 
ants of  Mary  Chilton  claim  that  it  was  she;  the  descendants  of  John 
Alden  that  it  was  he.  The  truth  unquestionably  is  that  it  was  neither. 
Suzette  cherished  the  belief  that  it  was  Mary  Chilton. 


ON  COLE'S  HILL.  2  7 

Mayflower  was  so  little,  and  they  had  been  shut 
up  in  it  so  long,  only  going  off  when  the  women 
washed  on  Cape  Cod. 

"  And  then  they  come  ashore,  one  boatful  after 
another,  not  all  on  the  same  day  or  in  the  same 
month ;  and  can't  you  imagine  you  see  them, 
Dick,  stepping  out  upon  the  rock  —  the  very  rock 
down  there  ? "  And  in  her  excitement  Suzette 
stood  up,  and  Dick  too.  "  And  there  are  all  the 
children  —  thirty  children — just  think  of  it,  Dick? 
—and  eight  of  them  girls,  landing  on  these  lonely, 
lonely  shores  in  December,  and  not  a  house  ! 

"  Little  Ellen  More  and  Damaris  Hopkins, 
Remember  Allerton  and  her  sister  Mary,  and 
dear  little  Humilitie  Cooper —  O  Dick!  I  wish 
I  could  have  known  sweet  little  Humilitie  Cooper 
—  for  I  know  she  was  sweet  —  and  the  two  wee 
babies,  Peregrine  and  Oceanus. 

"  Oh,  I  wish  I  had  been  there,  Dick,  to  have 
seen  them!"  Suzette  went  on,  quite  carried  out  of 
herself.  "I  should  like  to  have  just  gone  down 
to  them,  and  said,  as  Samoset  did,  'Welcome, 
welcome,  little  Pilgrim  boys  and  girls ! ' ' 

Yes,  there  were  thirty  children  on  board  the 
Mayflower  when  she  cast  anchor  in  Plymouth 
harbor,  and  the  exploits  of  one  of  them,  Francis 
Billington,  have  come  down  to  us  in  history. 


28  LITTLE   PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

One  day,  while  the  Mayflower  was"  lying  off 
Cape  Cod,  and  his  father,  John  Billington,  was  on 
shore,  he  got  at  some  gunpowder  aad  amused  him- 
self making  squibs.  He  rolled  bits  of  paper  into 
cylinders  and  filled  them  with  the  powder.  These 
he  lighted  and  tossed  into  the  air.  They  went  off 
with  a  delightful  crack-crack  and  smoke,  and  must 
have  greatly  amused  Wrasling  Brewster,  and  Re- 
solved White,  and  Henery  Samson,  and  the  rest 
of  the  boys,  though  doubtless  little  Humilitie 
Cooper  and  some  other  of  the  girls  were  terrified 
at  the  noise  and  smoke. 

But  sending  off  the  squibs  did  not  satisfy  the 
mischievous  Francis.  He  espied  his  father's  fowl- 
ing-piece hanging  upon  its  hooks,  and,  knowing  it 
was  loaded,  he  took  it  down  and  fired  it  off.  The 
noise  of  this  brought  down  the  mothers,  who  were 
taking  the  air  on  deck,  and  we  can  easily  imagine 
their  dismay  when  they  learned  what  had  been 
going  on.  For  there  was  nearly  a  barrel  of  gun- 
powder lying  about  in  different  parts  of  the  cabin, 
and  it  was  "a  mercy,"  as  Peregrine's  mother  re- 
marked, "that  they  were  not  all  blown  to  pieces;" 
and  Governor  Bradford  says  much  the  same.  "  We 
through  God's  mercy  escaped  a  great  danger  by 
the  foolishness  of  a  boy,"  though  foolishness  seems 


ON  COLE'S  HILL.  2Q 

i 

but  a  mild  term  to  apply  to  Francis'  performances. 
But  the  truth  is,  doubtless,  that  he  was  so  tired 
out  with  being  shut  up  in  such  a  small  space  as 
the  Mayflower  afforded,  for  three  long  months, 
that  he  felt  he  must  do  something  or  burst. 

It  was  thinking  of  this  boy  that  led  Dick  to 
say,  after  a  few  moments'  silence  :  — 

"  Well,  I  should  like  to  have  seen  Francis  Bill- 
ington.  He  must  have  been  a  capital  fellow  to 
go  a-hunting  with,  he  and  his  brother  John,  and 
there  were  plenty  of  deer  and  wolves  here  then." 

They  walked  slowly  along  a  graveled  path  to 
the  opposite  side  of  the  esplanade.  There  a 
horizontal  slab  of  granite  explains  that  one  day 
some  workmen,  while  digging  just  here,  brought 
up  human  bones  supposed  to  be  those  of  Pilgrims 
who  were  buried  on  Cole's  Hill  during  the  sad 
winter  of  the  landing.  It  is  a  familiar  story,  but 
the  pathos  of  it  is  perennial.  Nearly  half  the 
Mayflower  company  died  that  first  winter,  and 
among  them  little  Ellen  More.  Governor  Carver, 
who  died  in  March,  and  over  whose  grave  three 
volleys  of  shot  were  fired,  was  one  of  the  last, 
and  his  tender  and  sensitive  Katherine  did  not 
linger  long  behind,  and  was  buried  here  too.  One 
of  the  first  graves  dug  on  this  hill  was  for  the 


30  LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

lovely  Rose  Standish,  the  wife  of  the  brave  and 
gallant  Miles  Standish,  and  around  her  memory 
there  still  lingers  a  fragrance  like  that  of  the 
pink  wild  roses  which  bloom  so  profusely  along 
these  sandy  shores.  When  spring  came,  with  its 
birds  and  blossoms  and  seed-sowing,  the  remain- 
ing colonists  leveled  these  graves  and  planted 
them  with  corn,  so  that  the  Indians  might  not 
know  how  their  numbers  had  lessened. 

The  remembrance  of  all  this  cast,  for  a  few 
moments,  a  shadow  over  the  sunny  June  morning, 
and  it  was  with  grave  faces  that  Dick  and  Suzette 
walked  down  the  long  flight  of  stone  steps  which 
lead  to  the  rock. 


CHAPTER  III. 

TEDDY  OF  CLAM-SHELL  ALLEY. 


Nobly  the  Mayflower  bows, 
While  the  dark  wave  she  plows 

On  to  the  west. 
Till  from  the  tempest's  shock 
Proudly  she  lands  her  flock 
Where  on  old    Plymouth  Rock 

Freedom  found  rest. 

-^  Rufus  Daives. 


"PLYMOUTH  ROCK  does  not  lie  on  the  shore 
washed  by  the  waves,  as  one  would  natu- 
rally expect.  A  wharf  was  built  over  it  in  1741, 
so  its  top  alorie  is  visible.  It  used  to  be  in  the 
middle  of  a  black  and  dusty  street  and  surrounded 
with  dingy  warehouses.  But  not  a  great  many 
years  ago  these  were  all  taken  down.  And  now  a 
pretty  granite  canopy  is  built  over  it  and  it  is  en- 
closed by  an  iron  railing,  the  gates  of  which  are 
locked  at  night. 

It  is  a  pity  such  a  precaution   should  be  neces- 

31 


32  LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

sary,  but  the  rock  would  long  ago  have  been 
carried  off  in  tid-bits  by  tourists,  had  it  not  been 
thus  protected. 

Dick  tried  the  gate.  "  I  should  like  to  go  in 
and  stand  upon  it,"  he  said.  And  that  is  always 
the  first  and  natural  impulse  of  every  one  who 
sees  this  rock  for  the  first  time.  And  would  it 
not  be  amusing,  and  vastly  instructive,  too,  to  see 
the  long  procession  of  people  who  have  stood  upon 
it,  beginning  with  the  Pilgrims  themselves  ? 

I  have  been  told  that,  once  upon  a  time,  two 
people  were  married  upon  this  rock.  They  came 
from  the  far  west,  like  Dick  and  Suzette,  and 
were  descendants  of  some  of  the  Mayflower  Pil- 
grims. The  wind  was  east  at  the  time,  so  I  was 
told,  and  the  sky  gray  and  leaden,  and  the  cere- 
mony must  have  been  an  exceedingly  chilly  one. 

But  few  people  were  stirring  in  the  vicinity  as 
Dick  and  Suzette  stood  leaning  upon  the  railing 
and  looking  down  upon  the  bowlder  of  dark  gran- 
ite. For  the  famous  rock  is  simply  a  bowlder, 
brought  down,  it  is  said,  in  the  glacial  period,  from 
the  neighborhood  of  Labrador,  and  so  is  itself  a 
pilgrim. 

Over  the  beach  and  the  bay  beyond,  the  white- 
winged  sea-gulls  were  leisurely  flying,  having  come 


TEDDY  OF  CLAM-SHELL  ALLEY.  33 

from  their  far-off  resting-places  to  fish  for  their 
daily  rations  in  shallow  waters.  The  fish-market 
was  open,  and  smoke  was  coming  out  of  the  black 
funnel  of  the  galley  of  a  two-masted  schooner 
which  lay  at  a  wharf  near  by.  She  was  the  Lucy 
Jane,  freighted  with  lumber  from  Wiscasset, 
Maine. 

A  little  figure  surmounted  by  a  shock  of  tum- 
bled hair  and  a  torn  and  bristling  straw  hat  was 
moving  furtively  in  and  out  among  the  piles  of 
lumber  and  other  merchandise  with  which  the 
wharf  was  strewn,  and  the  eyes  from  under  the 
tumbled  hair  cast  an  occasional  glance  toward  the 
pair  standing  by  the  rock.  Dick  saw  the  little 
figure,  and  recognized  it. 

"  Halloo  !  "  he  called  out.  "  What  are  you  doing 
there?  " 

The  little  figure  came  toward  them  ;  it  was  the 
ragamuffin  of  Boston  Common. 

"  Do  you  live  here  ?"  asked  Dick.  "And  what 
is  your  name  ?  " 

"  My  name  's  Teddy,"  answered  the  boy,  "  an' 
I  live  in  Clam-shell  Alley." 

"  What  were  you  doing  in  Boston,  then  ?  Did 
you  run  away?"  continued  Dick,  putting  him 
through  his  catechism  in  boy  fashion. 


34  LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Teddy,  grinning,  "  an'  I  had  a 
bully  time." 

"  Who  paid  your  fare  ?  " 

"Didn't  pay  no  fare.  I  jest  hid  among  th' 
truck." 

"Jumped  the  claim,  eh?"  and  Dick  smiled. 
"  Well,  what  are  you  hanging  about  that  wharf  for, 
this  time  in  the  morning  ?  " 

"'Cause  I  see  y'  come  out,  an'  I  wanted  t'  tell 
y'r  you  's  awful  good  t'  gimme  that  fifty  cents  ; " 
and  Teddie  looked  shyly  at  Suzette.  She  wore  a 
white  frock,  and  had  the  sweetness  and  freshness 
of  the  June  morning  about  her. 

"  An'  what  are  y'  doin'  y'self  down  here  this 
time  o'  th'  mornin'  ? "  asked  Teddy,  turning  cate- 
chist  in  his  turn. 

"  Looking  at  the  rock,"  replied  Dick.  "  We 
never  saw  it  before." 

"  'T  ain't  much  t'  look  at,"  replied  Teddy,  with 
a  contemptuous  glance  at  the  sacred  stone.  "  Lots 
o'  folks  come  t'  see  it,  but  I  don't  see  what  for. 
It 's  nothin'  but  an  old  rock." 

"  Why,  it  's  Plymouth  Rock  !  don't  you  know  ?  " 
exclaimed  Suzette,  scandalized  at  the  combined 
ignorance  and  irreverence  of  the  little  heathen. 

"  Oh,  yes,  I   know,"    said    Teddy  indifferently. 


TEDDY  OF  CLAM-SHELL  ALLEY.  35 

"  I  've  heard  about  it.  Columbus  landed  on  it 
when  he  discovered  Ameriky." 

"  O  Teddy !  "  exclaimed  Suzette ;  and  Dick 
laughed  outright. 

"  Good  for  you,  Teddy  !  "  he  said. 

"Why,  didn't  he?"  asked  Teddy,  somewhat 
taken  aback  by  the  way  in  which  his  display  of 
learning  was  received. 

"Oh  —  oh!"  cried  Suzette,  and  she  darted 
across  the  street  to  the  edge  of  the  green  slope. 
She  stooped  and  picked  up  something,  and  then 
came  back  with  a  beaming  face. 

"  See,  Dick,  see  !  a  buttercup!  "  and  she  held  up 
the  tiny  yellow  cup  to  her  chin.  "Do  I  love  but- 
ter, Dick  ?  "  she  asked.  "  And  is  n't  it  a  beauty  ?  " 
Her  eyes  sparkled,  and  her  whole  expression  was 
that  of  one  who  has  found  a  long-desired  treasure. 

Teddy  looked  at  her  in  amazement.  He  was 
used  to  seeing  people  come  and  gaze  in  real  or 
feigned  ecstasy  at  the  rock.  He  had  even  seen 
one  or  two  kneel  and  kiss  it.  But  he  had  never 
seen  any  one  "  make  such  a  fuss,"  for  so  he  would 
have  put  it,  over  a  buttercup  before. 

"  If  you  like  them  flowers,  I  can  git  lots  in  a 
jiffy;"  and  he  darted  off  behind  a  warehouse  near 
by,  presently  returning  with  his  chubby,  dirty 


36  LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

hands  full  of  the  golden  blossoms.  "  Here  they 
be,"  he  said:  and  Suzette  took  them  with  an  eager 
"Thank  you  !  How  lovely  they  are !  " 

"Didn't  y'  never  see  no  buttercups  before?" 
he  said,  longing  to  ask  where  she  had  lived  all  her 
days  never  to  have  seen  buttercups. 

But  he  did  not  feel  exactly  that  freemasonry 
with  her  that  he  did  with  Dick.  A  boy  was  a 
boy,  whether  well  dressed  or  not,  and  Teddy  was 
well  acquainted  with  both  kinds.  But  with  a  girl 
so  daintily  clad  and  so  gentle-mannered  as  Suzette 
poor  Teddy  had  never  before  been  brought  in  con- 
tact. Girls  generally  passed  him  by  on  the  other 
side,  and  noticed  him  only  to  remark  that  he  was 
one  of  "  those  dreadful  boys,"  which  meant,  in 
their  vocabulary,  that  he  was  often  ragged  and 
dirty  and  spoke  ungrammatically. 

"  No,"  replied  Suzette,  looking  smilingly  at  him. 
"  I  never  saw  a  buttercup  before ;  but  papa  has 
told  me  about  them,  and  how  the  little  New 
England  children  try  if  they  love  butter  with 
them.  We  have  beautiful  flowers  in  Colorado, 
but  no  buttercups  ; "  and  she  held  them  off  and 
looked  at  them  admiringly. 

"  Is  that  where  y'  live  ?  t'  Colorado  ? "  asked 
Teddy. 


TEDDY  OF  CLAM-SHELL  ALLEY. 


37 


"  Yes,"  replied  Suzette,  still  smiling  at  her 
buttercups. 

"  And  be  y'  goin'  to  stay  here  a  spell  ? "  asked 
Teddy. 

"Yes,  all  summer.  And,  Teddy,"  she  continued 
after  a  moment,  "  all  the  time  I  'm  here  I  wish  you 
would  bring  me  a  bunch  of  buttercups  every  day, 
and  I  '11  give  you  five  cents  a  bunch." 

"  I  '11  bring  you  the  buttercups,  but  I  don't 
touch  no  five  cents,"  replied  Teddy.  "  I  know 
where  y'  be  —  up  to  Doctor  Tom's  ;  an'  Doctor 
Tom  doctors  little  Bess  for  nothin'." 

It  may  as  well  be  explained  here  that  the  phrase 
"  Doctor  Tom,"  as  used  by  Teddy,  was  not  one 
of  disrespect.  Doctor  Tom's  father  was  Doctor 
Waterman,  and  in  order  to  discriminate  between 
the  two  when  the  older  doctor  was  living,  the 
younger  was  called  "  Doctor  Tom  "  and  "  the  young 
doctor,"  both  of  which  titles  still  clung  to  him. 

"Did  you  have  a  good  time  in  Boston?"  asked 
Dick. 

"  You  bet !  "  was  the  prompt  and  comprehensive 
reply. 

"  I  say,"  continued  Teddy,  "  what  a  lot  o'  folks 
there  be  in  Boston  !  it  's  like  town-meetin'  day. 
An',  jiminy  !  ain't  the  roads  crooked  ?  I  thought 


38  LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

I  'd  jest  take  a  little  walk  an'  see  what  was  goin' 
on,  an'  fust  I  knew  I  did  n't  know  where  I  was. 
But  I  kep'  right  on,  an'  by-m-by  I  saw  lots  o'  folks 
goin'  in  t'  a  big  house,  and  I  follered  on,  an'  it  was 
a  store  chuckful  o'  all  sorts  o'  jimcracks  an'  things 
that  women  wear.  An'  I  went  in  t'  a  little  bed- 
room —  there  was  a  chap  opened  th'  door  kind  o' 
p'lite  jest  as  I  was  passin',  an'  I  see  the  other 
folks  goin'  in,  an'  so  I  went.  An'  he  shut  th'  door, 
an',  jiminy  !  if  that  bedroom  did  n't  begin  t'  go 
up !  I  tell  you,  I  was  kind  o'  scared  at  fust,  an' 
then  I  see  nobody  else  did  n't  seem  to  think  't  was 
queer.  An'  they  kep'  gittin'  out  an'  in  when  th' 
bedroom  stopped.  But,  says  I  t'  myself,  '  You  jest 
stick  by,  Teddy,  an'  see  how  this  thing  's  a-comin' 
out.'  An'  so  we  went  up  an'  up,  an'  then  we 
begun  to  go  down,  an'  then  th'  chap  that  tended 
door  looked  at  me  kind  o'  ugly,  an'  says  he, 
'  What  are  y'  doin'  on  here,  y'  young  scamp  ? ' 
An'  '  Nothin','  says  I.  An'  he  did  n't  say  nothin' 
more  till  we  got  down  back,  an'  then  says  he, 
'  Now  you  skip,  or  I  '11  have  th'  r/lice  after  ye ; ' 
an'  I  skipt.  But  wa'  n't  it  queer  now  ?  Did  y' 
ever  see  one  o'  them  bedrooms  ?  " 

"Yes,"  replied  Dick;  "they're  elevators." 
"Well,  I  told  little  Bess  about  it,  an'  she  said 


TEDDY  OF  CLAM-SHELL  ALLEY.  39 

't  was  jest  like  Jack's  beanstalk,  an'  if  it  had  only 
kep'  on,  mos'  likely  I  should  'a'  come  out  int' 
Jack's  country." 

"Then  what  did  you  do?"  asked  Suzette.  "Did 
you  go  back  to  the  Stamford?" 

"  No  ;  I  did  n't  know  which  way  t'  go,  and  after 
what  that  chap  said  I  dars'  n't  ask  th'  p'lice. 
They  was  standin'  about  thick,  an'  awful  p'lite  t' 
th'  women-folks,  a-helpin'  'em  across  th'  road,  an' 
makin'  th'  teams  stop  for  'em ;  but  I  give  'em  a  wide 
berth,  you  bet.  '  Likely 's  not,'  says  I  t'  myself, 
'they'd  shut  y'  up  in  jail,  an'  y'  wouldn't  never 
see  little  Bess  no  more.'  An'  by  that  time  'twas 
'most  sunset,  an'  I  was  awful  hungry,  an'  I  stopped 
a  boy  who  was  a-yellin'  newspapers,  an'  asked  him 
th'  way  t'  th'  wharf  where  the  Stamford  was. 
'You  jest  foller  y'r  nose,  young  un','  says  he,  'an' 
you  '11  ketch  th'  old  lady  'f  y'  don't  miss  on  her.' 
An'  I  uas  mad,  an'  if  it  hadn't  'a'  be'n  f'r  th' 
p'lice,  I  'd  'a'  pitched  int'  him ;  but  I  dars'  n't,  y' 
know,  so  I  said  nothin'.  An'  then  he  yelled  out 
t'  another  chap  across  th'  road,  '  Here  's  a  green- 
horn !  Go  it,  cucumbers ! '  If  I  ever  do  ketch 
that  newspaper  boy  down  here,  I  '11  give  him 
gowdy  and  smash  his  nose  !  " 

"  Well,  he  deserves  it,"  said  Dick  sympathetic- 


4O  LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

ally.  "  I  would  n't  mind  giving  him  a  good  punch 
myself." 

"  Would  n't  y'  now  ?  "  asked  Teddy,  brightening 
into  a  smile. 

It  gave  him  great  pleasure  that  this  well-grown, 
well-mannered  boy  should  have  a  fellow-feeling  for 
him.  Well-dressed  boys  were  apt  to  tease  and 
laugh  at  him.  He  did  n't  care  much  for  their 
teasing  though ;  he  repaid  it  in  kind.  He  could 
give  knock  for  knock.  Courtesy  for  courtesy  was 
not  so  often  required  of  him. 

Suzette  was  deeply  interested  in  his  narrative. 

"  Poor  Teddy  !  "  she  said.  "  And  what  did  you 
do  next  ? " 

"  Then  I  come  up  a  road  and  see  a  kind  o' 
green,  not  jest  like  our  green,  but  bigger,  an'  it 
had  trees  on  it,  an'  a  pond,  an'  a  fence  round  it. 
An"  I  was  awful  tired  o'  stone  roads  an'  stone 
houses,  an'  I  jest  cut  f'r  that  green.  An'  I  was 
jest  a-goin'  in  when  a  p'liceman  steps  up  an'  says, 
'Where  d'  y'  b'long,  my  son? '  An'  then  I  thought 
I  was  a  goner ;  but  says  I  to  myself,  '  You  jest 
keep  a  stiff  upper  lip,  Teddy,  an'  you  '11  come  out 
all  right.'  So  I  spoke  up,  an'  says  I,  'I  b'long  t' 
Plymouth,  sir,  an'  I  come  up  in  the  Stamford,  an' 
I  'm  goin'  back  t'morrer.'  An'  then  I  sidled  off 


TEDDY  OF  CLAM-SHELL  ALLEY.  41 

quickstep  round  th'  hill  where  th'  moniment  was, 
but  I  could  see  him  out  o'  the  corner  o'  my  eye 
a-watchin'  me  sharp.  An'  then  I  went  across  th' 
green  an'  another  road  an'  come  to  a  garding. 
An',  jiminy  !  wa'  n't  them  flowers  some !  I  jest 
wished  little  Bess  was  there  ;  she  's  awful  fond  o' 
flowers.  An'  I  walked  round  an'  looked  at  'em, 
an'  smelt  of  'em,  a-keepin'  my  eye  out  fr  that 
p'liceman  all  th'  time,  you  bet !  An'  by-m-by  it 
come  dark,  an'  I  see  a  summer-house  like  Doctor 
Tom's,  with  vines  a-growin'  all  over  it,  an'  bushes, 
an'  seats,  an'  I  jest  crawled  under  one  o'  them 
seats,  an'  b'fore  you  could  say  Jack  Robi'son  I  was 
fast  asleep,  an'  when  I  waked  up  the  sun  was 
a-shinin'.  An'  I  was  jest  settin'  on  that  seat  an' 
wonderin'  what  t'  do  next,  an'  you  come  by  an'  give 
me  that  fifty  cents.  'T  was  awful  good  o'  ye  ; "  and 
he  looked  gratefully  from  Suzette  to  Dick. 

"  And  how  did  you  find  your  way  to  the  Stam- 
fordat  last,  Teddy?  "  asked  Dick. 

"  Oh,  I  asked  a  p'liceman.  I  had  to,  y'  know, 
an.'  I  thought  mebbe  he  would  n't  touch  me  if  I 
told  him  I  was  goin'  right  off  t'  Plymouth.  So  I 
asked  one,  an'  he  said  he  was  goin'  right  down 
that  way  an'  would  show  me.  An'  he  was  jest  as 
sociable  as  could  be,  an'  got  it  all  out  o'  me,  how 
I  come,  an'  all.  An'  he  said  I  must  never  be 


42  LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

afraid  to  cornfide  in  a  p'liceman ;  that 's  what 
they  was  for,  t'  cornfide  in  an'  show  folks  how  to 
go.  An'  then  I  told  him  about  y'r  fifty  cents, 
an'  asked  him  did  he  think  I  could  buy  a  doll 
f'r  little  Bess  an'  git  somethin'  to  eat  fr  fifty 
cents.  An'  he  said,  'You  bet,'  an'  took  me  to  a 
place  where  they  had  lambs'  tongues,  an'  pies,  an' 
doughnuts.  An'  I  had  some,  an'  it  cost  fifteen 
cents.  An'  then  we  went  to  another  place,  an'  he 
said  he  knew  the  woman  that  kep'  it,  an'  he  asked 
if  she  had  a  doll,  cheap,  for  a  little  girl  named 
Bess ;  an'  she  said  she  guessed  she  had,  an' 
fetched  it,  an  't  was  twenty-five  cents.  An'  then 
I  got  some  candy  for  little  Bess  with  the  rest. 
An'  then  th'  p'liceman  went  down  t'  th'  wharf, 
an'  says  he,  '  Good-by,  sonny  !  You  've  got  out  of 
it  first-rate  this  time,  but  don't  y'  never  try  it 
again.  An'  give  my  love  t'  little  Bess,'  says  he." 

As  Teddy  ended  his  narrative,  Suzette  opened 
her  mouth  to  ask  who  little  Bess  was.  But  at  that 
moment  a  bell  was  heard  violently  ringing,  and 
Jason  was  seen  under  the  lindens  alternately  ring- 
ing and  gesticulating. 

"  Breakfast  is  ready,"  said  Dick.  "  Good-by, 
Teddy." 

"  Good-by,"  said  Suzette.  "  And  don't  forget 
the  buttercups,  Teddy." 


CHAPTER   IV. 

THE    SWEETE    BROOKE    UNDER   THE    HILL. 

For  men  may  come  and  men  may  go, 
But  I  go  on  forever. 

—  Alfred  Tennyson. 

OOME  of  the  allusions  in  Suzette's  rhapsody 
h-'  on  Cole's  Hill  may  not  be  perfectly  clear  to 
the  reader,  and  may  as  well  be  explained  here. 

After  the  arrival  of  the  Pilgrims  at  Cape  Cod, 
they  got  out  their  shallop  —  a  large  boat  with 
sails  —  to  fit  her  for  an  exploring  expedition  in 
shallow  waters  where  the  Mayflower  could  not  go  ; 
for  they  were  anxious  to  fix  upon  a  spot  to  settle. 

But  they  found  the  shallop  much  broken  and 
bruised  from  the  voyage,  having  been  stowed 
away  in  the  ship,  and  while  waiting  for  it  to  be 
put  in  order  a  party  of  them  went  out  to  explore 
on  foot.  Each  man  carried  a  musket  on  his 
shoulder,  and  wore  a  heavy  sword  by  his  side,  and 
on  his  breast  was  a  broad,  deep  plate  of  steel 
armor,  called  a  corselet. 

It  was  while  on  this  expedition  that  they  came 

43 


44  LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

across  the  "pretty  corn "  mentioned  by  Suzette, 
and  the  account  of  its  discovery  can  not  be  better 
told  than  in  their  own  words  :  — 

"  Also  we  found  a  great  Ketle  which  had  been 
some  ship's  Ketle  and  brought  out  of  Europe, 
and  there  was  also  an  heap  of  sand  like  the  former 
[some  they  had  found  previously],  but  it  was  newly 
done ;  we  might  see  how  they  had  padled  it  with 
their  hands,  which  we  digged  up  and  in  it  we 
found  a  little  old  Basket  full  of  faire  Indian 
corne,  and  digged  further  and  found  a  fine  great 
new  Basket  full  of  very  faire  corne  of  this  year 
with  some  36  goodly  ears  of  corne,  some  yellow 
and  some  red  and  others  mixt  with  blew  which 
was  a  very  goodly  sight. 

"  The  Basket  was  round  and  narrow  at  the  top, 
it  held  about  three  or  four  bushels,  which  was  as 
much  as  two  of  us  could  lift  up  from  the  ground, 
and  was  very  handsomely  and  cunningly  made. 
But  whilst  we  were  busy  about  these  things  we 
set  our  men  Sentinelle  in  a  round  ring,  all  but  two 
or  three  who  digged  up  the  corne.  We  were  in 
suspense  what  to  doe  with  it  and  the  Ketle  and  at 
length  after  much  consultation  we  concluded  to 
take  the  Ketle  and  as  much  of  the  corne  as  we 
could  carry  away  with  us  ;  and  when  our  Shallop 


THE   SWEETE  BROOKE.  45 

came  if  we  could  find  any  of  the  people  and  come 
to  parley  with  them  we  would  give  them  the  Ketle 
againe,  and  satisfy  them  for  their  corne  [which 
they  did  some  six  months  afterwards].  So  we 
tooke  all  the  eares  and  put  a  good  deale  of  the 
loose  corne  in  the  Ketle  for  two  men  to  bring 
away  on  a  staffe,  and  they  that  could  put  any  into 
their  pockets  filled  the  same ;  the  rest  we  buried 
againe." 

And  so,  as  William  Bradford  writes  in  his 
famous  history,  —  the  story  about  which  you  shall 
hear  further  on,  —  "  like  the  men  of  Eshcol,  they 
carried  with  them  of  the  fruits  of  the  land  and 
showed  their  brethren." 

Nothing  is  said  of  any  boys  going  on  this 
expedition.  They  remained  quietly,  or  unquietly, 
on  board  the  Mayflower ;  but  they  would  have 
been  admirable  associates  in  this  matter  of  digging 
up  and  pocketing  the  corn  ;  that  is,  if  these  Pil- 
grim boys  had  as  many  pockets  as  boys  of  later 
times. 

They  would  also  have  enjoyed  an  adventure 
which  happened  to  William  Bradford.  As  the 
company  of  explorers  were  making  their  way 
slowly  through  the  woods  which  covered  at  that 
time  the  greater  part  of  Cape  Cod,  they  came  to  a 


46  LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

tree  where  a  "  Spritt,"  or  young  sapling,  was  bent 
down  over  a  bow  and  some  corn  strewed  under- 
neath. Stephen  Hopkins,  the  father  of  the  baby 
Oceanus,  who  was  born  at  sea,  which  fact  accounts 
for  his  name — Stephen  Hopkins  said  it  was  a 
deer  trap,  and  while  they  were  all  gathered  around 
and  looking  at  it,  William  Bradford  came  up.  He 
too  stopped  to  examine  it,  and  while  he  was  doing 
so  it  suddenly  jerked  up  and  caught  the  future 
governor  by  the  leg.  "  It  was  a  pretie  devise," 
the  story  goes  on  to  say,  "made  with  a  rope  of 
their  [the  Indians']  owne  making,  and  having  a 
noose  artificially  made  as  any  Roper  in  England 
can  make,  and  as  like  ours  as  can  be." 

But  what  a  pity  that  such  a  delightful  find  as 
that  trap  should  have  been  wasted  upon  those 
grown  men  !  What  a  pity  the  boys  could  not  have 
seen  it !  I  suppose  they  must  have  found  a  good 
many  such  traps  afterwards  in  the  woods  about 
Plymouth,  and  learned  to  make  them,  too,  and  so 
sent  the  fashion  down  from  generation  to  genera- 
tion. For  that  is  exactly  the  kind  of  trap  set 
to-day  by  the  boys  of  the  Old  Colony  for  par- 
tridges, rabbits,  and  such  small  game.  For,  alas  ! 
only  a  few  deer  are  now  to  be  found  in  the  woods 
of  Plymouth,  and  those  neither  boy  nor  man  is 
allowed  to  trap. 


THE   SWEETE  BROOKE.  47 

They  had  their  first  fight  with  the  Indians,  too, 
on  Cape  Cod,  in  which  no  one  was  hurt,  though 
the  small  company  of  Pilgrims  were  a  good  deal 
frightened  at  first,  most  of  them  having  left  their 
firearms  on  shore.  Part  of  the  company  of 
eighteen  were  on  shore,  and  part  on  board  the 
shallop,  having  started  out  on  that  exploring 
expedition  which  ended  at  Plymouth  Rock.  It 
was  early  in  the  morning,  and  before  breakfast. 
But  there  was  one  among  them  who  always  had 
his  snap-lock  or  some  other  weapon  of  defence 
ready  at  hand,  and  that  was  Myles  Standish.  He 
was  the  first  to  fire  upon  the  attacking  Indians. 
Among  the  latter  was  "  a  lustie  man  "  who  "  stood 
behind  a  tree  within  half  a  musket  shot  and  let 
his  arrows  flie  at  them."  He  shot  two  arrows, 
and  stood  valiantly  three  musket  shots,  but  when 
some  one  took  full  aim  at  him,  and  made  the  bark 
and  splinters  of  the  tree  fly  about  his  ears,  he 
"  gave  an  extraordinary  shrieke,  and  away  they 
wente  all  of  them." 

The  Pilgrims  followed  them  for  a  little  way  and 
fired  a  shot  or  two  just  to  let  them  know  they  were 
not  afraid  of  them.  None  of  the  exploring  party 
was  injured,  though  their  coats,  which  hung  up 
on  the  barricade  of  logs  and  pine  boughs  they  had 


48  LITTLE   PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

made  to  keep  off  wild  beasts,  were  shot  through 
and  through  with  the  Indian  arrows.  They  gave 
God  "  solemn  thanks  and  praise  "  for  their  deliver- 
ance and  gathered  up  a  bundle  of  the  arrows  to 
send  to  England  by  the  master  of  the  Mayflower. 
Some  of  these  arrows  were  headed  with  brass, 
some  with  deer  horns,  and  some  with  eagles'  claws. 

The  Pilgrims  gave  to  the  spot  where  they  had 
this  fight  the  quaint  name  of  "  The  First  En- 
counter," and  such  it  is  called  in  history. 

It  was  on  the  night  preceding  "  The  First  En- 
counter," that  the  Pilgrims  first  heard  the  Indian 
war-whoop,  which,  they  said,  was  a  great  and 
hideous  cry.  They  were  weary,  and  were  sleep- 
ing around  their  camp-fire,  when  about  midnight 
the  cry  was  heard,  and  the  sentinel  called  to  arms. 
They  fired  off  a  couple  of  muskets,  and,  hearing 
nothing  more,  concluded  it  was  the  cry  of  wolves. 
But  when,  at  day-dawning,  between  prayers  and 
breakfast,  it  came  again,  and  one  of  the  company 
came  running  and  shouting  "  Indians  !  Indians  !  " 
they  knew  what  the  hideous  cry  was.  Then  came 
the  flight  of  arrows  that  began  "The  First  En- 
counter." 

On  Cape  Cod,  too,  the  women  of  the  Mayflower 
had  their  first  New  England  washing-day,  setting 


THE  SWEETE  BROOKE.  49 

up  their  great  iron  kettles,  gypsy  fashion,  upon 
the  sands,  in  the  neighborhood  of  what  is  now 
Provincetown,  and  near  a  small  pond  which  has 
since  disappeared.  The  men  and  boys  fetched 
water  and  cut  sweet-smelling  juniper  wood  to 
feed  the  fires  ;  doubtless  the  girls  also  helped,  and 
so  made  a  jolly  lark  of  it,  as  boys  and  girls  — even 
Pilgrim  ones  —  know  how  to  make  out  of  work. 
A  fine  thing  it  must  have  seemed  to  them  to 
run  about  and  stretch  their  weary  bodies  after  the 
long  voyage  on  board  that  small  vessel ! 

It  is  bad  enough  nowadays  to  cross  the  boister- 
ous Atlantic  with  all  the  comforts  of  an  ocean 
steamer ;  and  when  the  little  Mayflower  had  got 
fully  half-way  over,  she  became  so  leaky  tnat,  if  it 
had  not  been  for  a  great  screw  brought  by  one 
of  the  Pilgrims  from  Holland,  with  which  they 
"  buckled,"  or  bent  back,  one  of  the  great  main 
beams  which  had  cracked,  and  so  tightened  her, 
there  is  no  knowing  what  might  have  happened  to 
her,  or  whether  we  should  ever  have  heard  of  Ply- 
mouth Rock. 

A  question  may  here  arise  in  the  mind  of  the 
reader  —  a  doubt  even.  How  was  it  possible  for 
these  two  western  children  to  know  so  much  of 
the  early  and  minute  history  of  Plymouth  as  is 


50  LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

apparent  from  their  conversation  on  Cole's  Hill  ? 
I  must  go  back  a  little  to  tell  you. 

These  two,  Dick  and  Suzette,  had  never  been  to 
school.  Isolated  upon  a  great  western  ranch, 
their  father  and  mother  had  been  their  teachers 
in  all  things.  They  were  like  the  children  of  the 
Pilgrims  in  that  respect,  for  they  too,  in  the  earlier 
years  of  the  colony,  were  taught  by  their  parents. 
And  Richard  Waterman  had  some  old-fashioned 
notions  concerning  the  training  of  children,  espe- 
cially as  to  the  books  they  read.  He,  with  his 
brother  Tom  and  sister  Penelope,  had,  like  the 
famous  Bridget  Elia,  been  allowed  to  browse  at 
will  in  their  father's  library,  and  the  books  they 
read  in  those  early  days  had  been  among  those 
of  their  adult  years  also. 

So,  in  selecting  books  for  Dick  and  Suzette,  — 
and  the  books  they  read  were  always  carefully 
selected  by  their  father  and  mother,  —  such  ones 
were  chosen  as  would  always  interest  them  ;  such 
as,  every  time  they  read  them,  they  would  find 
fresh  pleasure  in.  And  upon  the  book-shelves  in 
the  school-room  set  apart  for  their  use,  and  from 
the  windows  of  which  they  could  look  out  upon 
the  snow-capped  mountains,  among  Scott's  novels 
and  poems,  Robinson  Crusoe,  Pilgrim's  Progress, 


THE  SWEETE  BROOKE.  51 

Kingsley's  Greek  Heroes  and  Water  Babies,  Don 
Quixote,  Plutarch's  Lives,  Andersen's  Tales  and 
Hawthorne's  Wonder-book,  Lanier's  Mabinogion, 
King  Arthur,  and  Froissart,  the  Iliad,  and  a  score 
of  other  books  of  heroic  and  romantic  life  and 
adventure,  —  among  these  stood  a  thin,  square 
volume  printed  in  old  style,  —  v  for  u,  and  f  for  s, 
—  of  antique  spelling  and  phrase,  entitled  Mourt's 
Relation  ;  or,  Journal  of  the  Plantation  at  Ply- 
mouth. And  none  of  all  the  books  upon  those 
shelves  had  been  read  oftener  or  with  greater  zest 
by  Dick  and  Suzette  than  had  this  old  book.  For 
was  not  Plymouth,  concerning  whose  early  history 
it  had  been  written,  the  birthplace  and  home  of 
the  father  whom  they  loved  and  thought  the  most 
perfect  of  men  ?  This  fact,  aside  from  the  book 
itself,  would  have  been  sufficient  to  create  an 
interest  in  it.  But  the  book  is  interesting.  It 
tells,  with  that  attention  to  detail  which  is  so 
pleasing  to  children  of  every  age,  from  six  to 
sixty,  the  daily  life  of  the  Pilgrims  for  the  first 
six  months  ;  and  in  this  respect  it  reads  more 
like  Robinson  Crusoe  than  any  other  book  I 
know. 

So,    in   the   minds   of    these   two,  —  Dick  and 
Suzette,  —  Bradford    and    Carver    and    Winslow 


52  LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

ranked  with  King  Arthur  and  Sir  Galahad,  Chris- 
tian and  Hector,  Julius  Caesar  and  Ivanhoe. 

In  the  long  winter  evenings,  too,  on  that  isolat- 
ed ranch,  there  was  a  little  reading-club,  a  family 
reading-club,  the  best  of  all  clubs  for  young  peo- 
ple to  belong  to,  where  the  father  and  mother 
read  aloud.  And  most  that  has  been  written  con- 
cerning the  Pilgrims,  both  before  and  after  their 
arrival  in  New  England,  was  read  at  this  club. 
So  you  see  Dick  and  Suzette  had  come  fully 
equipped,  and  had  nothing  to  do  but  just  go 
around  and  look  at  the  delicious  old  places  they 
had  read  about,  without  the  necessity  of  a  story- 
book uncle  crammed  for  the  occasion. 

And  the  first  thing  they  did  the  morning  suc- 
ceeding the  interview  with  Teddy  at  the  rock  was 
to  start  out,  after  duly  breakfasting,  for  the  pur- 
pose of  finding  the  "  very  sweete  brooke  running 
under  the  hillside  "  which  so  pleased  the  Pilgrims. 

Teddy  had  brought  the  buttercups  early,  with 
the  dew  still  upon  them,  and  Suzette  had  tucked 
them  into  her  white  frock. 

It  was  in  accordance  with  her  mother's  wish 
that  Suzette  put  on  a  fresh  white  frock  daily  in 
sweet,  bright  summer  weather.  But  the  frock 
was  so  simply  made  that  it  was  no  more  difficult 


THE  SWEETE  BROOKE.  53 

to  launder  than  an  "  old-fashioned  tire  "  —  so  Me- 
hitable,  who  felt  called  upon  to  apologize  for  this 
seeming  extravagance  on  the  part  of  Mrs.  Rich- 
ard, said  to  black  Rose  when  she  handed  the 
seven  over  to  her  Monday  morning.  And  so  far 
as  Rose  was  concerned,  she  would  not  have  minded 
if  there  had  been  seventy. 

The  "  sweete  brooke "  is  now  spanned  by  a 
bridge  not  far  from  its  mouth.  It  is  no  longer 
"  sweete,"  at  least  not  to  look  at,  as  Dick  re- 
marked to  Suzette.  They  were  leaning  over  the 
railing  and  looking  down  upon  its  dark,  turbid 
waters.  Innumerable  ducks  were  paddling  about 
in  it,  and  a  few  geese.  A  garden  or  two  bordered 
on  the  stream,  but  the  greater  part  of  its  banks 
was  crowded  with  buildings.  It  is  tolerably  wide 
just  here,  and  looks  more  like  a  pond  than  a  run- 
ning stream. 

"  But  how  pretty  it  must  have  been,  Dick,  when 
there  were  no  houses  here  !  "  said  Suzette.  "  Such 
a  little  stream,  and  with  clear  water,  and  the  her- 
rings crowding  up  and  filling  it  full  in  spring,  and 
round  banks,  and  buttercups  and  strawberry  vines 
and  mayflowers  growing.  I  'm  sure,  Dick,  may- 
flowers  grew  on  that  bank  there,  and  little  Humil- 
itie  Cooper  picked  them  that  very  first  spring  after 
the  snow  had  gone." 


54  LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH, 

It  was  difficult  for  Dick  to  believe  that  the  shy 
mayflower  had  ever  grown  in  this  noisy  place 
where  the  air  was  filled  with  the  clatter  of  a  mill 
of  some  sort  and  the  rough  sounds  of  a  forge. 
But  he  did  not  say  so.  Unlike  some  brothers,  he 
seldom  cast  a  damper  upon  Suzette's  pretty  fancies 
or  imaginings. 

A  boat  was  just  starting  out  below  the  bridge. 
Two  boys  were  in  her. 

"  Have  a  sail  ? "  they  shouted. 

"Not  to-day,"  was  the  reply. 

The  temptation  was  strong.  The  water  was 
blue,  the  sky  clear,  and  the  breeze  steady.  But 
they  had  promised  not  to  go  boating  until  they 
had  learned  to  swim.  And  the  next  morning  the 
swimming  lessons  were  to  begin. 

"I  say,  Suzette,"  said  Dick,  "when  the  horses 
get  here,  let 's  follow  this  stream  up  as  far  as  it 
goes." 

"  But  we  can't  follow  a  stream  here  as  we  can  at 
home,"  replied  Suzette.  "The  houses  and  fences 
are  in  the  way." 

"  Well,  we  can  leap  the  fences  and  go  round  the 
houses,  I  suppose,"  said  Dick. 

"  But  perhaps  they  won't  like  us  to  leap  their 
fences." 


THE   SWEETE  BROOKE. 


55 


"Oh,  bother!"  was  Dick's  reply.  "What  a 
nuisance  a  fence  is,  any  way !  And  does  n't  it 
look  queer,  Sue,  to  see  such  little  bits  of  land 
fenced  in  ? " 

The  narrow  street  along  which  they  were  walk- 
ing was  black  with  coal  dust  from  the  smelting 
furnaces.  The  sun  fell  hot  upon  it,  and  the  air 
was  close.  Over  the  window  of  a  shabby  little 
house  a  honeysuckle  clambered.  And  out  from 
the  honeysuckle  looked  a  small,  pale  face.  A 
smile  broke  over  the  face  as  the  eyes  met 
Suzette's. 

"  Won't  you  come  in  ?  "  asked  a  child's  voice. 

Dick  and  Suzette  stopped  and  hesitated.  It 
was  a  little  abrupt — this  invitation  to  enter  a 
strange  house. 

The  door  stood  wide  open,  however,  and  the 
flat  door-stone  was  on  a  level  with  the  dusty 
street.  It  was  only  a  step  in,  not  up,  and,  after 
the  momentary  hesitation,  they  entered. 


CHAPTER   V. 

LITTLE    BESS. 

I  sit  me  down  and  think 

Of  all  thy  winning  ways; 
Yet  almost  wish,  with  sudden  shrink, 

That  I  had  less  to  praise. 

—  I,eigh  Hunt. 

TT  was  a  small  place,  but  they  had  been  in 
•*-  houses  quite  as  small  before.  The  sod-house 
in  which  their  father  and  mother  had  lived  when 
they  first  went  on  to  the  ranch,  and  which  had 
been  carefully  preserved,  was  much  smaller.  The 
room,  though  bare,  was  clean. 

The  little  girl  whose  small  face  had  looked  out 
from  the  honeysuckle,  and  whose  voice  had  asked 
them  to  enter,  did  not  come  forward  to  greet  them. 
This  lack  of  courtesy  surprised  Suzette  at  first. 
Then  she  saw  that  the  child  was  not  sitting  by 
the  window,  as  she  had  supposed,  but  was  lying 
on  a  couch,  raised  so  that  she  could  look  out.  She 
held  out  a  thin  little  hand  as  Dick  and  Suzette 
went  up  to  her. 

"  I  knew  who  you  were  the  minute  I  see  you," 
she  said,  smiling — a  smile  which  brought  a  dimple 

66 


LITTLE  BESS. 


57 


into  either  wan  cheek.  "  Teddy  told  me  all  about 
you." 

"  And  you  are  "  — 

"  Little  Bess,"  said  the  child. 

"And  is  Teddy  your  brother?"  asked  Suzette. 

"  Oh,  no  !  "  replied  the  child.  "  I  have  n't  no- 
body but  my  mother.  But  Teddy  is  awful  good  t' 
me.  An'  won't  you  set  down  an'  stay  a  little 
while?"  she  asked,  looking  at  the  two  wistfully. 
"  I  '11  show  you  my  dollies,"  she  added,  as  Suzette 
sat  down  and  Dick  leaned  on  her  chair. 

Little  Bess  looked  at  them  for  a  moment  or  two 
without  speaking,  but  smiling  all  the  time.  The 
two  pleased  her,  as  they  did  most  people.  But 
Dick's  happy  boy's  face  grew  grave  as  he  looked 
at  her.  Such  a  helpless  little  creature  as  this  was 
new  not  only  to  his  experience,  but  to  his  imagi- 
nation. He  had  never  even  dreamed  that  in  this 
beautiful  world,  so  full  of  enjoyment  and  activity 
for  him,  there  could  be  found  such  a  childhood 
as  this.  She  apparently  could  move  only  her 
head  and  arms.  The  rest  of  her  body  was 
strapped  to  a  wooden  frame. 

"  I  like  you  ;"  and  she  nodded  her  head  confiden- 
tially. "  You  look  so  good  and  strong,  and  —  and 
so  nice."  And  she  looked  Suzette  over,  from  her 


58  LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

pretty  straw  hat  with  its  bunch  of  daisies  to  her 
trim  walking-boots.  "An'  you  look  just  alike, 
just  as  Teddy  said  you  did.  Are  you  twins  ?  I 
never  saw  twins  before.  It  must  be  so  nice  to  be 
twins." 

"Them  are  my  dolls,"  she  said,  pointing  to  a 
row  that  stood  leaning  against  a  box  upon  the 
table  before  her.  There  were  twenty  of  them,  of 
all  sizes  and  ages,  from  an  extremely  grimy  and 
ancient  rag-baby  to  the  latest  arrival  —  the  one 
Teddy  had  bought  in  Boston. 

"  That  one,"  pointing  to  the  ancient  rag-baby, 
"was  my  very  firstest  one.  I  had  it  when  I  was  a 
baby  myself.  Her  name  is  Arabella,  an'  mother 
wants  to  burn  her  up  ;  she  's  so  dirty,  she  says. 
But  I  can't  have  one  o'  my  family  burnt  up  just 
because  she's  dirty.  That  would  be  cruel." 

She  spoke  gravely,  though  Dick  fancied  he  saw 
a  little  twinkle  of  amusement  in  her  eyes.  It 
interested  him.  Was  it  possible  that  she  liked 
fun  ? 

"An'  that,"  she   said,   pointing  to  another  with 

very  red  cheeks  and  a  tinsel  crown  upon  her  head 

-  "  that  is  Queen  Victory.      P'r'aps   you  think  I 

don't    know  nothin'  about   Queen  Victory,  but    I 

do.     I  've  got  a  little    book  all    about    her,  Miss 


LITTLE   BESS.  59 

Penelope  give  me,  an'  I  like  her.  She  's  good  t' 
little  girls. 

"An"  that  one,"  pointing  to  a  small  rubber 
specimen  that  cried  when  squeezed,  "  is  a  very 
naughty  child  that  cries  all  th'  time,  and  makes 
her  mother  sights  o'  work.  An'  her  name  is 
Squawleena.  Doctor  Tom  said  that  was  a  good 
name  for  her.  An'  that 's  her  mother,  Mis'  Jack- 
son, next  to  her.  See  how  poor  an'  old  she  is, 
just  on  account  o'  Squawleena's  bein'  so  naughty." 

The  "mother"  doll  had  been  originally  stuffed 
with  sawdust,  but  had  sprung  a  leak  and  lost 
some  of  it,  which  really  was  the  cause  of  the  ema- 
ciated and  wrinkled  appearance  which  little  Bess 
was  pleased  to  attribute  to  Squawleena's  naughti- 
ness. 

"An'  that,"  she  continued,  pointing  to  a  jolly 
little  doll  with  almond-shaped  eyes  and  the  black- 
est of  hair,  "  is  Miss  Japonica.  She  's  from  Japan, 
you  know,  an'  Doctor  Tom  named  her.  An'  he 
says  that  's  the  way  little  Japan  girls  look. 

"An'  that  one,"  indicating  a  crippled  creature 
with  one  arm,  one  leg,  and  one  eye  only,  "  is  Betsy 
Prig.  She  was  a-settin'  on  th'  floor  one  day — she 
had  be'n  naughty  an'  tumbled  off,  you  know  — 
an'  in  rushed  a  big,  dreadful  lion  out  o'  th'  woods, 


6O  LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

an'  bit  her  an'  shook  her  an'  shook  her,  an'  I 
screamed,  an'  Teddy  run  in  an'  drove  off  the 
lion,  but  poor,  dear  Betsy  Prig  was  all  bit  up,  an' 
I  felt  awfully,  an'  when  Doctor  Tom  came  I  asked 
him  if  he  could  n't  make  her  well  again.  An'  he 
said  he  could  n't  make  her  a  new  eye,  or  a  new  leg, 
or  a  new  arm,  but  he  guessed  if  I  bathed  her  an' 
kep'  her  quiet  she  'd  heal  up.  An'  he  gave  me 
some  arnica  to  bathe  her  with. 

"  The  lion,  you  know,  was  just  a  little  dog,  but  I 
play  't  was  a  lion,  'cause  playin'  things  makes  'em 
so  interestinV' 

This  last  remark  was  made  in  a  confidential 
tone,  and  it  went  quite  to  Suzette's  heart.  Here, 
then,  was  somebody  else  who  liked  to  make  be- 
lieve things,  as  well  as  herself.  And  although  she 
did  not  understand  why  it  should,  the  very  thought 
made  her  almost  cry.  And  Suzette  is  not  the 
kind  of  girl  that  cries  at  every  little  thing  either. 
But  she  bravely  overcame  the  impulse,  and  said : 

"  I  think  it 's  great  fun  to  make  believe.  I  do 
it  myself,  lots ;  don't  I,  Dick  ?  Oh,  do  tell  us 
some  more  ! " 

"An'  that,"  little  Bess  went  on,  pointing  to  a 
pretty,  pink-cheeked  doll  whose  eyes  had  somehow 
disappeared  —  "  that  is  Dottie  Dimple.  She  had 


LITTLE  BESS.  6 1 

the  very  loveliest,  loveliest  blue  eyes  that  ever 
you  did  see,  an'  'cause  she  was  naughty,  an'  would 
not  try  to  learn  to  read,  they  just  faded  all  out. 
That 's  what  Doctor  Tom  says  happens  to  things 
if  you  don't  use  'em,  an'  I  kep'  tellin'  her  so ;  but 
she  would  n't.  That 's  what  Doctor  Tom  said 
when  it  hurt  me  so  to  move  my  arms.  '  You  must 
try,  little  Bess,'  says  he,  'or  they'll  get  so  bad 
you  can't  use  'em  ever.'  An'  I  alwa's  do  just  as 
Doctor  Tom  says.  An'  it  don't  hurt  me  much 
now."  She  said  this  with  a  sunny  smile. 

And  did  moving  those  thin  little  hands  hurt 
her  ?  Dick,  who  was  intently  watching  her  as 
she  talked  on  about  her  dolls,  more  to  Suzette 
than  to  him,  felt  he  could  not  bear  it  much  longer. 
If  she  would  only  cry  about  it,  it  would  be  easier, 
because  then  he  could  pity  her.  But  she  seemed 
so  dreadfully  happy  !  That  is  what  he  would  have 
said  if  he  could  have  put  his  feelings  into  words. 

"An'  that  doll,"  continued  little  Bess,  with 
great  animation,  pointing  to  the  very  biggest  of 
them  all,  a  rag-doll  of  home  manufacture,  a  roly- 
poly,  fat  creature  with  a  broad,  smiling  countenance 
—  "  that  is  Marietta  Tintoretta  Tin  Ton  Territo 
Wilhelmina  Angelina  Wilkins  Smith ;  "  and  she 
laughed  as  merrily  as  a  bobolink  sings.  "  Is  n't  it 


62  LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

funny  ?  I  named  her  all  myself.  An'  sometimes 
Doctor  Tom  comes  in  an'  says, '  An'  how  is  Queen 
Victory,  an'  Arabella,  an'  Squawleena,  an'  Betsy 
Prig,  an'  Mis'  Jackson,  an'  Cinderella,  an'  Mother 
Hubbard,  an'  Sally  Jane,  an'  Miss  Kick-a-poo,  an 
Marietta  Tintoretta  Tin  Ton  Territo  Wilhelmina 
Angelina  Wilkins  Smith  ? '  an'  he  says  it  so  fast 
an'  so  funny  I  almost  die  a-laughin'."  And  again 
the  laughter  bubbled  out,  and  this  time  so  irresist- 
ibly that  Dick  and  Suzette  could  not  have  helped 
joining  in  if  they  had  tried.  A  carriage-full  of 
solemn-faced  people  who  were  passing  by  looked 
in  astonishment  at  the  honeysuckle-shaded  win- 
dow from  which  such  delightful  laughter  was 
issuing. 

"  An'  that,"  resumed  little  Bess,  turning  once 
more  to  the  matter  in  hand,  after  they  had  stopped 
laughing  for  sheer  want  of  breath  — "that  is  little 
Violet." 

She  pointed  to  a  small  doll  which  they  had  not 
before  seen,  the  huge  bulk  of  Marietta  Tmtoretta 
having  shut  her  off  from  their  observation.  This 
doll  was  strapped  to  a  little  frame  the  exact  copy 
of  the  one  in  which  little  Bess  herself  lay. 

"  She  's  sick,  you  know,  an'  has  to  be  put  in  that 
so  she  can  grow  straight  an'  nice.  Doctor  Tom 


LITTLE  BESS.  63 

fixed  her ;  I  asked  him  to.  But  she  don't  like  it, 
an'  she  fusses.  An'  I  have  to  talk  to  her  real 
hard  sometimes.  She  thinks  it 's  too  bad  she 
can't  run  round  like  Squawleena  an'  Japonica  an' 
the  rest  o'  the  little  girls.  An'  I  tell  her  she  must 
be  patient  an'  wait,  an'  p'r'aps  by-m-by  she  '11  git 
well.  An'  I  tell  her  she  has  lots  o'  nice  things  :  a 
mother  to  take  care  o'  her  —  that's  her  mother, 
Mis'  Patty  Mullikin,  a-standin'  by  her  —  and  Doc- 
tor Tom  to  doctor  her  an'  tell  her  stories,  an'  lots 
o'  folks  to  be  good  to  her,  an'  a  honeysuckle  t' 
smell  sweet,  an'  th'  sun  t'  shine  in,  an'  a  kitty,  an' 
such  a  nice,  nice,  splendid  Teddy  !  But  she  's  a 
very,  very  ungrateful  child  !  " 

At  this  point  Dick  turned  abruptly  and  walked 
to  the  door.  He  could  not  stand  it  another  min- 
ute longer.  This  unconscious  revelation,  this  lay- 
ing bare  so  innocently  her  own  feelings  by  little 
Bess  was  the  last  straw.  As  he  stood  in  the  door 
he  looked  steadily  out  at  the  dingy  old  building 
opposite.  There  was  a  woman  at  one  of  its 
windows,  who  wondered  who  that  nice  boy  could 
be  over  to  Mis'  Parker's.  But  Dick  did  not  see 
her.  There  was  a  mist  before  his  eyes  and  a  lump 
in  his  throat. 

Little  Bess,  whose  eyes  had  been  fixed  reprov- 


64  LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

ingly  upon  the  ungrateful  Violet,  turned  them 
upon  Dick  inquiringly  as  he  walked  away.  He 
stood  with  his  back  turned  to  her  so  she  could  not 
see  his  face.  What  was  the  matter  with  him  ? 
She  wondered  whether  she  had  said  something  to 
displease  him.  Did  he  not  like  her  telling  them 
about  her  dolls  ?  Her  face  grew  grave,  but 
before  she  could  ask,  Suzette  came  to  the  res- 
cue. With  true  womanly  instinct  she  divined 
at  once  what  was  in  Dick's  heart,  and,  crowding 
back  the  tears  which  again  threatened  to  be  too 
much  for  herself,  she  spoke  quickly  and  cheerfully. 

"  Which  is  the  doll  Teddy  bought  you  in  Bos- 
ton ?  "  she  asked. 

At  this  question  the  smile  returned  to  little 
Bess's  face,  and  Dick,  having  gained  control  of 
himself,  and,  boy-like,  feeling  a  little  ashamed, 
perhaps,  of  the  loss  of  that  self-control,  —  for 
ought  not  a  boy  of  thirteen  to  be  equal  to  most 
things  ?  —  came  back  to  his  stand  by  Suzette's 
chair. 

"  That  is  it.  Take  it  up,  please,"  said  little 
Bess. 

And  Suzette  took  up  and  examined  the  pretty 
little  creature,  with  its  soft,  fluffy  hair  and  fashion- 
able attire.  It  looked  as  though  it  were  worth  a 


LITTLE  BESS.  65 

good  deal  more  than  the  twenty-five  cents  Teddy 
had  paid  for  it.  And  Suzette  wondered  in  her 
own  mind  whether  there  had  not  been  an  under- 
standing between  the  saleswoman  and  the  good 
policeman,  and  whether  the  latter  had  not  paid 
the  balance  of  the  price  out  of  his  own  pocket. 
Who  knows  ?  nobody  but  the  two  themselves,  if 
he  did  do  it.  But  if  he  did,  it  will  surely  be 
remembered  as  one  of  those  deeds  of  which  it  is 
written  :  "  Inasmuch  as  ye  have  done  it  unto  one 
of  the  least  of  these,  my  brethren,  ye  have  done 
it  unto  me." 

"  And  have  you  named  her  ?  "  asked  Suzette. 

"Yes;  her  name's  Theodora  Stamford,"  replied 
little  Bess.  "  I  told  Miss  Brewer  if  't  had  be'n  a 
boy  doll  I  'd  'a'  named  it  for  Teddy ;  an'  she  said 
Theodora  was  the  girl's  name  for  Teddy.  An'  I 
named  her  Theodora  Stamford,  you  know,  'cause 
she  come  in  the  Stamford.  I  never  see  th'  Stam- 
ford, but  I  hear  her  whistle  ev'ry  day,  an'  some- 
times I  see  some  of  the  folks  —  not  very  often 
though.  They  don't  come  down  here  much. 
Teddy  says  they  go  an'  look  at  a  big  rock  an'  set 
on  th'  hill  an'  eat.  Don't  you  think  it 's  a  nice 
name?"  and  she  looked  at  Suzette  confidingly. 

"  I  think  it 's  a  lovely  name,"  replied  Suzette 


66  LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

heartily.  "  But  do  you  stay  alone  here  ? "  she 
asked,  having  neither  seen  nor  heard  any  one 
moving  about  the  small  house. 

"  'Most  always,"  replied  little  Bess.  "  My 
mother  has  to  go  out  to  do  washing  and  work. 
But  I  don't  mind  ;  I  ain't  lonesome.  Most  all 
th'  folks  know  me,  an'  when  they  go  by  they  look 
in  the  window  an'  say,  'An'  how  are  you  t'-day, 
little  Bess  ? '  an'  that 's  company,  you  know.  An* 
there 's  th'  dolls  to  make  b'lieve  about,  an'  my 
books." 

There  was  a  light  frame  attached  to  the  couch 
in  some  way,  upon  which  lay  a  child's  magazine ; 
and  this  frame  was  just  high  enough  and  near 
enough  so  little  Bess  could  turn  the  leaves  easily. 

"I  can  read,"  she  said,  with  an  expression  of 
pride  on  her  small  face.  "  Miss  Brewer  learned 
me.  An'  there  's  kitty  for  company." 

As  if  in  response  to  her  words,  a  great  yellow 
cat  jumped  in  at  the  window.  He  had  a  blue 
ribbon  around  his  neck,  to  which  was  attached  a 
tiny  brass  bell,  an  exact  copy  of  the  old  Liberty 
Bell  at  Philadelphia,  even  to  a  crack  in  its  side. 
He  at  once  sprang  up  by  little  Bess  and  began  to 
rub  his  head  against  her  cheek  and  purr.  The 
eyes  he  turned  inquiringly  upon  the  two  visitors 
were  pure  gold  in  color. 


LITTLE  BESS.  67 

"  He  's  Miss  Brewer's  cat,  an'  he  comes  t'  see 
me  ev'ry  day,  an'  stays  a  good  long  while.  Ain't 
he  a  beauty  ?  An'  his  name  's  Colonel  Archibald 
Yell.  An'  ain't  it  a  funny  name?  He's  named 
for  a  great  soldier,  Miss  Brewer  says.  Colonel 
Archibald  Yell,"  and  she  held  up  a  finger,  "  ring 
your  bell !  "  and  the  musical  ting-a-ling-ling  an- 
swered to  a  vigorous  shake  of  the  yellow  warrior's 
head. 

"  Oh  !  he  's  sights  o'  company.  No  ;  I  ain't 
lonesome  ever.  Why,  I  cant  be,  you  know ! " 

As  Dick  and  Suzette  walked  away  through  the 
dusty  street,  after  promising  little  Bess  to  come 
again,  they  stopped  and  looked  back  at  the  small 
gray  house  with  its  honeysuckle-shaded  window. 

"  Is  n't  it  dreadful,  Dick  ?  "  said  Suzette. 

"  Yes  ;  do  you  suppose  Uncle  Tom  can't  cure 
her?" 

"If  he  could,  I  am  sure  he  would,"  said  Suzette. 

"Well,  come,"  said  Dick,  for  Suzette  was  look- 
ing sadly  grieved,  an  unusual  expression  for  her 
bonny  face,  and  one  he  did  not  like  to  see. 
"  Let 's  go  up  Leyden  Street  and  see  what  we 
can  find.  It  's  the  street  of  the  '  seven  lights,' 
you  know." 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE  STREET  OF  THE  SEVEN  HOUSES. 

So  they  lefte  ye  goodly  and  pleasante  citie,  which  had  been  theit 
resting  place  near  12  years;  but  they  knew  they  were  pilgrimes, 
and  looked  not  much  on  those  things,  but  lift  up  their  eyes  to 
ye  heavens,  their  dearest  countrie,  and  quieted  their  spirits.  — 
William  Bradford. 

Till  he  beheld  the  lights  in  the  seven  houses  of  Plymouth, 
Shining  like  seven  stars  in  the  dark  and  mist  of  the  evening. 

—  Longfellow. 

T  EYDEN  STREET  is  the  oldest  street  in 
•* — '  Pilgrim  Town.  When  De  Rassiere  saw  it 
in  1627  he  said  it  was  about  a  cannon-shot  long, 
and  it  was  the  same  length  then  that  it  is  now. 

It  was  called  First  Street  by  the  Pilgrims,  and 
then  Broad  Street ;  though  why  it  should  have 
been  called  Broad  Street  it  is  impossible  to  say, 
unless  because  it  was  so  narrow. 

The  name  of  Leyden  was  given  to  it  in  1823,  in 
memory  of  Leyden,  "a  faire  and  beutifull  citie 
and  of  a  sweet  situation,"  where,  as  the  quotation 
from  Bradford's  History  at  the  head  of  this  chap- 
ter tells  you,  the  Pilgrims  had  lived  during  the 


STREET  OF  THE  SEVEN  HOUSES.  69 

twelve  years  preceding  their  emigration    to    Ply- 
mouth. 

At  the  left,  as  you  come  up  the  slope  from  the 
water-side,  stood  the  Common  House,  the  first 
building  put  up  by  the  Pilgrims,  made  of  logs, 
filled  in  between  the  logs  with  clay  mortar,  and 
thatched  with  reeds  and  rushes  from  the  borders 
of  the  brooks  and  ponds.  This  house  took  fire 
January  14.  The  women  and  children  were  still 
on  board  the  Mayflower  and  were  greatly  terrified 
when  they  saw  the  flames  streaming  up  from  the 
thatched  roof,  thinking  the  Indians  had  made  an 
attack.  Governor  Carver  and  William  Bradford 
were  lying  in  the  house  ill,  and  barely  escaped 
with  their  lives.  The  dreadful  sickness  which 
carried  off  so  many  had  already  begun.  The 
women  and  children  had  to  stay  on  board  the 
vessel  until  the  little  log-houses  were  ready  for 
them.  Of  course  the  children  must  have  come 
on  shore  daily  to  play  and  work  too.  But  his- 
tories, unfortunately,  do  not  say  much  about  the 
children,  and  so  we  have  to  guess  about  them.  A 
square  white  house  now  stands  upon  the  spot, 
with  an  inscription  upon  one  corner  telling  the 
visitor  that  here  is  the  site  of  the  Common 
House. 


70  LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

Suzette,  coming  slowly  up  the  hill  and  still 
thinking  of  little  Bess,  suddenly  caught  sight  of 
this  inscription,  and  her  face  at  once  brightened. 
She  seized  Dick's  arm,  and  they  both  stopped  and 
stood  a  moment  or  two  looking  up  and  down  the 
street.  Not  a  person  was  to  be  seen  in  it,  but  up 
at  the  end  in  the  Town  Square  people  were  pass- 
ing to  and  fro  under  the  shade  of  the  great  elms, 
and  a  crowd  waited  at  the  doors  of  the  post-office, 
where  the  morning's  mail  was  being  opened. 
That  building  stands  upon  the  lot  once  owned 
and  occupied  by  Governor  William  Bradford. 

It  required  all  Suzette's  powers  of  making  believe 
to  bring  back  the  street  of  1621  as  she  looked  up 
and  down  at  the  neat,  well-blinded  houses,  all  of 
them  having  a  modern  air  with  the  exception  of 
one  delightful  big  old  house  which  looked  as  if  it 
might  have  been  almost  two  hundred  years  old, 
and  had  a  gambrel  roof  and  massive  chimney. 

On  the  first  page  of  the  Old  Colony  Records  is 
a  plan  of  this  street  as  it  probably  looked  two 
hundred  and  sixty-five  years  from  that  very  morn- 
ing, and  here  it  is  :  — 

"  Moorsteads  and  garden-Plotes  of  those  which 
came  first,  layed  out  1620." 


STREET   OF   THE  SEVEN  HOUSES. 


NORTH    SIDE. 


THE   SOUTH    SIDE. 

PETER  BROWN. 
JOHN  GOODMAN. 
MR.  WM  BREWSTER. 


HIGE   WAY. 


JOHN  BILLINGTON. 
MR.  IZAACK  ALLERTON. 
FRANCIS  COOKE. 
EDWARD  WINSLOW. 


There  are  the  seven  houses  which  held  the 
"seven  lights"  we  read  about  in  Longfellow's 
Courtship  of  Miles  Standish.  Beyond  the  seven 
houses  stood  the  Common  House. 

And  down  this  street  Samoset  came  that  April 
morning  in  1621,  walking  fearlessly  toward  the 
Common  House,  and  saying,  "  Welcome,  welcome, 
Englishmen !  " 

They  did  not  let  him  enter,  however,  for  reasons 
of  their  own,  but  took  him  to  another  house, 
where  he  was  feasted  with  "  strong  drink,  bisket, 
butter,  cheese,  pudding,  and  a  piece  of  mallard  " 
(duck),  all  of  which  he  found  extremely  good. 
And  then,  by  way  of  cementing  their  friendship 
still  more  firmly,  they  "drank"  tobacco  together, 


72  LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

or,  as  we  should  say,  smoked.  And  when  he  went 
away  they  gave  him  a  knife,  a  bracelet,  and  a  ring. 

It  was  on  this  street  too,  doubtless,  somewhere 
near  the  governor's  house,  that  certain  men,  who 
came  over  after  the  Mayflower  Pilgrims,  played 
"  stoole-ball  "  and  "  pitch-the-barr  "  on  a  Christ- 
mas day,  because,  as  they  said,  their  consciences 
would  not  permit  them  to  work  on  that  day.  But 
when  Governor  Bradford  found  them  at  their 
games  he  ordered  them  into  their  own  houses, 
saying  that,  if  their  consciences  would  not  permit 
them  to  work,  neither  would  his  conscience  suffer 
him  to  allow  them  to  play  while  others  worked. 

For  the  Pilgrims  made  nothing  of  Christmas. 
They  thought  it  a  Papist  festival,  and  they  hated 
everything  Papistical,  and  with  good  reason,  too, 
as  you  will  learn  in  reading  history.  So  there  was 
no  bringing  in  of  the  boar's  head  nor  burning  of 
the  yule  log  in  Pilgrim  Town  ;  no  singing  of  waits 
or  hanging  of  the  mistletoe  on  Christmas  day,  as 
in  the  Old  England  whence  they  had  fled.  And 
the  children  knew  nothing  of  the  hanging  of 
stockings  by  the  great  open  fire-places,  nothing  of 
the  sweet  myth  of  Santa  Claus  or  of  the  Christ- 
mas-tree with  its  Christ-child. 

Dick  and  Suzette  walked  slowly  up  the  street, 


STREET   OF  THE   SEVEN  HOUSES.  73 

looking  at  everything,  seeing  everything  with  that 
power  of  quick  observation  they  had  acquired  by 
living  so  much  out-of-doors.  For  when  riding  at 
home  —  and  they  spent  hours  every  day  in  the 
saddle  upon  the  backs  of  their  Indian  ponies  — 
they  were  always  on  the  lookout.  They  never 
knew  what  might  turn  up  the  next  minute  — 
whether  a  jack  rabbit,  a  brown  bear,  a  gray  wolf, 
a  stray  buffalo,  or  a  wild  Indian.  And  they  had, 
consequently,  in  the  lift  of  their  heads,  something 
of  the  alertness  of  wild  forest  creatures  who  are 
ever  on  the  watch  ;  something  of  the  eager  look 
of  the  deer.  Their  whole  appearance,  in  fact,  was 
totally  unlike  that  of  the  town-bred  or  even  of 
the  country-bred  New  England  boy  or  girl. 

And  they  were  so  curiously  alike.  Just  the 
same  height  to  the  hundredth  part  of  an  inch,  the 
same  dark  eyes  and  waving  brown  hair,  and  they 
walked  off  with  the  same  free  step. 

So  as  they  passed  up  through  Town  Square,  it 
was  no  wonder  the  crowd  at  the  post-office  ques- 
tioned each  other  as  to  who  they  were  and  where 
they  came  from.  It  was  soon  understood  that 
they  were  the  grandchildren  of  old  Dr.  Waterman, 
whose  memory  is  still  green  in  that  region.  And 
the  men  and  women,  some  of  whom  had  come 


74  LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

from  far-off  Cedarville  and  Long  Pond  to  barter 
their  produce,  followed  the  two  with  kindly  eyes 
as  they  went  up  the  broad,  concreted  way  leading 
to  the  summit  of  Burial  Hill. 

"  Reg'lar  chips  o'  th'  old  block,"  said  one. 
"That's  jest  th' way  th'  old  doctor  used  t'  step 
off." 

A  good  many  people  were  on  the  hill  that 
morning,  rambling  about  in  the  well-kept  paths. 
The  Stamford  was  in,  and  a  party  of  excursionists 
who  had  come  in  her  were  searching  for  the  graves 
of  John  Alden  and  Rose  Standish.  The  grave  of 
the  former  is  unknown,  and  the  latter  was  buried, 
as  we  know,  on  Cole's  Hill.  So  their  quest  was  a 
fruitless  one.  But  they  did  not  seem  to  mind. 
They  sat  down  upon  a  zinc-covered  seat  and  ate 
peanuts,  littering  the  grass  with  the  shells. 

Upon  one  of  the  many  seats  and  under  the 
shade  of  an  elm,  Dick  and  Suzette  were  surprised 
to  find  Teddy,  who  grinned  broadly  in  reply  to 
Dick's  "Halloo!" 

"Why  aren't  you  in  school,  Teddy?"  asked 
Dick.  "  Is  it  vacation  ?  " 

"  Not  quite,"  replied  Teddy.  "But  I  ain't  a-goin' 
no  more." 

"  Why  not  ?  " 


STREET   OF  THE   SEVEN  HOUSES,  75 

"  'Cause  I  hate  it,"  was  the  prompt  reply. 

Dick  had  never  been  to  school,  as  we  know, 
but  he  had  always  thought  it  must  be  uncommonly 
jolly  fun  to  do  so  ;  and  he  felt  that  there  must 
be  some  mistake. 

"Come  now,  Teddy,"  he  remonstrated;  "you 
don't  mean  you  're  playing  truant  ?  .  That 's 
mean." 

"  She  's  mean." 

"Who?" 

"Teacher." 

"  Why,  what  has  she  done  ? " 

"  She  said  she  'd  settle  with  me  to-night.  An' 
I  know  what  that  means,  you  bet  —  a  lickin' ;  an'  I 
jest  skipt,  an'  I  ain't  goin'  no  more,  for  I  wa'  n't  tr 
blame." 

"  And  what  had  you  been  doing  ?  " 

"  Nothin'." 

"Nothing?" 

"Nothin'  t'  be  licked  for." 

Suzette,  who  had  been  looking  about  her  at  the 
old  gray  tombstones,  many  of  them  gay  with 
patches  of  orange-colored  lichens,  stooped  to  read 
the  quaint  inscription  upon  one  and  then  upon 
another,  and  so,  moving  unconsciously  further  and 
further  on,  left  Dick  and  Teddy  by  themselves. 


76  LITTLE   PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

Then  Dick  sat  down  upon  the  seat  by  Teddy 
and  said :  — 

"  Come  now,  Teddy,  tell  me  all  about  it.  What 
was  the  teacher  going  to  keep  you  after  school 
for?" 

"Well,"  said  Teddy,  moved  to  confidence  by 
Dick's  friendliness,  "you  know  that  little  bantam 
o'  mine  ?  —  no,  you  don't,  nuther,"  correcting  him, 
self.  "But  I  've  got  one,  an'  he  's  awful  spunky. 
He  's  a  Seabright  bantam,  and  he  looks  jest  like  a 
little  hen  —  don't  have  none  o'  them  long  tail- 
feathers.  He  follers  me  round  ev'rywheres  when 
he  ain't  shut  up,  and  goes  over  t'  see  little  Bess, 
an'  walks  in  jest  as  peart  an'  hops  ont'  th'  table 
an'  crows.  An'  little  Bess  thinks  he  's  splendid. 
An'  his  name  's  Dot  —  little  Bess  named  him  out 
of  a  story  Miss  Brewer  told  her. 

"An'  yest'd'y  I  forgot  t'  shut  him  up,  an'  he 
follered  me,  an'  I  did  n't  see  him  till  I  got  t'  th' 
school-house.  An'  th'  bell  was  a-ringin',  an'  I 
had  n't  time  t'  go  back,  an'  I  dar's  n't  leave  him 
outside,  f'r  th'  high-school  boys  would  'a'  killed 
him,  like's  not.  An'  so  I  jest  tucked  him  under 
my  jacket  an'  carried  him'  an'  shut  him  int'  my 
desk. 

"An'  then  I  forgot  all   about    him,    an'    when 


STREET   OF  THE   SEVEN  HOUSES.  77 

teacher  said  '  Books  ! '  I  opened  my  desk  wide,  an' 
out  he  flew  —  them  Seabrights  're  awful  high  fliers 
—  an'  lit  right  on  teacher's  head.  She  was 
a-comin'  down  th'  aisle,  an'  wa'  n't  she  mad  !  She 
give  him  a  whack,  an'  he  was  awful  scared,  an' 
flew  an'  upset  Bobby  Sears'  ink,  an'  then  flew  up 
ont'  th'  blackboard,  an'  there  he  set  pantin'  like 
everything. 

"  An'  then  teacher  says,  says  she,  '  Who  fetched 
that  hen  in  here?'  an'  nobody  says  nothin'.  An' 
then  she  said  ag'in,  '  Th'  one  that  fetched  that  hen 
in  will  jest  speak  out  an'  tell,  or  I  '11  ask  ev'ry  one 
o'  y'  singly.'  An'  nobody  said  nothin'  ag'in.  An' 
then  she  said,  '  Thomas  Niles,  did  you  fetch  that 
hen  in  here  ? '  an'  he  said,  '  No,'  an'  so  ev'rybody 
said.  An'  by-m-by  she  come  t'  me,  an'  '  Theo- 
dore Martin,'  says  she,  'did  you  fetch  that  hen 
in  ? '  an'  '  No,'  says  I,  an'  I  did  n't  tell  no  lie,  for 
I  did  n't  fetch  him,  an'  he  wa'  n't  a  hen  nuther. 
An'  then  she  went  on,  an'  ev'rybody  said  '  No.' 

"'Somebody's  told  a  lie,'  says  she,  'an'  if  I 
find  out  who  't  is  I  shall  punish  him  severely.'  An' 
then  that  nasty  little  telltale  of  a  Molly  Malony 
speaks  up  an'  says,  'That 's  Teddy  Martin's  hen.' 

"  An'  then  teacher  says  to  me,  '  Is  that  so, 
Theodore  ?  Does  that  hen  b'long  t'  you,  an'  did 


78  LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

you  fetch  it,  an'  have  you  told  a  lie  ? '  An'  then 
I  had  t'  say,  '  It  b'longs  t'  me,  but  I  ain't  told  no 
lie.  I  did  n't  fetch  him  —  he  come  hisself.  An' 
he  ain't  a  hen  —  he's  a  rooster.'  An'  then  Dot 
up  an'  crowed  right  on  top  o'  th'  blackboard  just 
as  loud  !  An'  then  teacher  says,  '  You  can  take 
him  home,  Theodore,  an'  I  '11  settle  with  you  to- 
night.' An'  I  ain't  a-goin'  to  be  settled  with,  for 
I  ain't  done  nuthin',  now  have  I  ? "  and  he  looked 
up  at  Dick. 

Under  other  circumstances,  without  thinking, 
perhaps,  Dick  might  have  said  "No,"  and  laughed. 
But  appealed  to  in  this  way,  he  felt  his  respon- 
sibility, and  after  a  few  moments'  thought,  he 
spoke : — 

"  Of  course,  Teddy,  you  were  n't  to  blame  for 
Dot  following  you  ;  you  could  n't  help  that. 
Perhaps  it  would  have  been  better  to  have  told 
the  teacher  all  about  it  and  asked  her  to  let  you 
carry  him  home." 

"But  she  would  n't,"  broke  in  Teddy.  "  She  'd 
'a'  told  me  t'  leave  him  out-o'-doors,  jest  as  she 
did  Allie  Prince's  kitty.  An'  Allie  never  see  her 
no  more." 

"  Well,  perhaps  so,"  said  Dick.  "  But  I  think 
you  ought  to  have  owned  up,  Teddy.  It 's  mean 
to  tell  lies." 


STREET  OF  THE  SEVEN  HOUSES.  79 

•("But  I  did  n't  tell  a  lie.  I  did  n't  fetch  him, 
an'  't  wa'  n't  a  hen,"  remonstrated  Teddy,  putting 
himself  behind  double  entrenchments,  as  it  were. 

Dick  smiled,  seeing  which,  Teddy  brightened. 

"  But,  Teddy,  my  mother  says  that  trying  to 
deceive,  trying  to  make  a  person  believe  a  thing 
is  n't  when  't  is,  or  is  when  it  is  n't,  is  one  kind  of 
lying.  I  can't  explain  it  exactly,  but  I  think  my 
mother  would  say  you  told  a  kind  of  a  lie.  What 
did  your  mother  say  when  you  told  her  about  it  ? " 

"  I  ain't  got  no  mother,"  said  Teddy  ;  and  his 
face  clouded. 

He  was  disappointed.  He  had  hoped  Dick 
would  be  his  champion,  and  strengthen  him  in  his 
resolution  of  not  going  back  to  school. 

As  to  Dick,  he  was  suddenly  silenced.  New  ex- 
periences seemed  to  be  crowding  upon  him  too 
thickly  —  so  thickly  as  to  quite  take  his  breath 
away.  Coming  out  from  his  happy,  sheltered  child- 
hood, where  he  had  known  nothing  of  real  sorrow  or 
pain,  he  had  first  been  confronted  by  the  sad  help- 
lessness of  little  Bess,  and  now  with  the  problem 
of  the  motherless  Teddy. 

No  mother !  And  what  was  a  boy  going  to  do 
without  a  mother  to  go  to,  he  should  like  to  know? 
What  would  he  do  ?  He  had  written  a  long  letter 


8O  LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

to  his  mother  that  very  morning.  He  wrote  to  her 
every  day,  and  she  to  him. 

Sunny  and  blue  lay  the  ocean  to  the  east  and 
north  and  south.  A  robin  sang  in  the  elm  above 
them.  A  party  of  girls,  leaning  upon  the  railing 
round  the  Cushman  monument,  chattered  and 
laughed  as  though  there  were  no  such  thing  in 
the  world  as  a  motherless  boy. 

For  several  moments  the  two  sat  without  speak- 
ing. Then  Dick  aroused  himself,  and  the  look  he 
turned  upon  Teddy  was  full  of  sympathy. 

"  Well,  Teddy,"  he  said  heartily,  "  if  you  have 
n't  got  any  mother,  I  guess  you  '11  have  to  do  as 
my  mother  thinks.  And  I  know  she  'd  say  you  did 
wrong  and  ought  to  apologize,  and"  -  hesitating 
a  little  at  the  harsh  sentence  —  "  take  the  conse- 
quences, even  if  it 's  a  licking." 

Teddy  looked  at  him  in  dismay. 

"  Ye  don't  really  mean  it  now,  do  ye  ?  "  he  said. 
"  D'  ye  s'pose  y'r  mother  'd  be  that  hard  on  a 
feller?" 

"  She  always  says  I  must  take  the  consequences 
when  I  do  wrong,"  was  the  reply. 

"  Well,  now,  I  don't  s'pose  you  ever  did  nothin' 
ye  'd  ought  n't  to  —  tell  a  lie,  nor  get  mad,  nor 
nothin'  ?  "  said  Teddy. 

Dick  laughed  outright. 


STREET  OF  THE   SEVEN  HOUSES.  8 1 

"You'd  better  ask  my  mother!"  he  said. 
"  Why,  I  've  an  awful  quick  temper,  Teddy.  I 
caught  Black  Jo  riding  Pepito  one  day,  and  I  just 
gave  him  a  sound  thrashing.  And  mother  made 
me  go  and  apologize  to  him,  a  little  black  fellow 
no  bigger  than  I,  and  I  hated  to,  at  first,  awfully. 
But  mother  talked  and  talked  until  I  wanted  to. 
That 's  the  way  mothers  do.  They  don't  make 
you  do  a  thing  ;  they  make  you  want  to  do  it." 

"Mothers  must  be  awful  nice,"  said  poor 
Teddy. 

"  I  tell  you,  Teddy,"  Dick  went  on  hastily, 
"you'll  feel  better  after  it's  over.  A  fellow 
always  feels  tremendous  mean  when  he 's  done 
what  he  ought  n't  to.  And  when  I  get  mad  I 
always  feel  better  after  I  've  apologized.  Mother 
says  it 's  manly  to  own  up.  Come,  Teddy,  just  do 
it  now.  Just  go  and  tell  the  teacher  all  about  it, 
and  don't  think  about  what  the  consequence  '11  be. 
If  it 's  a  licking,  take  it  like  a  man.  You  '11  feel 
better  after  it." 

If  Teddy  had  not  much  confidence  in  Dick's 
philosophy,  he  had  a  good  deal  in  Dick,  which 
amounts  to  the  same  thing.  And  so,  after  a 
moment's  thought,  he  said  :  — 

"  I  '11  do  it ;  I  '11  jest  do  it." 

"All  right,  and  good  luck  to  you  !  "  said  Dick. 


CHAPTER   VII. 


SUZETTE    GIVES    TEDDY    A    HISTORY    LESSON. 

The  Pilgrim  Fathers  are  at  rest. 

When  summer  's  throned  on  high 
And  the  world's  warm  breast  is  in  verdure  drest, 

Go,  stand  on  the  hill  where  they  lie; 
The  earliest  ray  of  the  golden  day 

On  that  hallowed  spot  is  cast, 
And  the  evening  sun  as  he  leaves  the  world 

Looks  kindly  on  that  spot  last.  — Pierpont. 

A  S  Dick  and  Teddy  got  up  from  their  seat 
*•  *•  after  the  conversation  given  in  the  last 
chapter,  Suzette  came  to 
meet  them,  all  aglow  with 
a  fresh  discovery.  As  I 
have  said  before,  she 
knew  the  old  Pilgrim 
town  well  through  books 
and  photographs,  and 
everywhere  she  went  she 
recognized  some  feature  of 

it.     This  time  it  was  the  site  of   the  fort,  which 
was  a  fort  and  meeting-house  combined,  and  which 

82 


A   HISTORY  LESSON.  83 

gave  to  the  hill  its  first  name  of  Fort  Hill.  It 
was  built  of  "  thick  sawn  planks  stayed  with  oak 
beams,"  and  had  a  flat  roof  upon  which  cannon 
were  mounted.  These  commanded  the  country 
round  about,  and  protected  the  street  of  houses. 
These  houses  were  further  protected  by  a  stock- 
ade of  stout  planks  built  around  the  gardens, 
forming  a  complete  defence,  and  the  streets  were 
closed  every  night  by  stout  gates,  to  keep  out  wild 
beasts  and  marauding  Indians.  On  this  fort  a 
constant  watch  was  kept. 

There  were  not  many  Indians  just  here  when 
the  Pilgrims  came,  for  they  had  died  off  by  pesti- 
lence only  a  few  years  before.  But  the  Wampa- 
noags  and  Nausets  and  Namaskets  were  not  far  off. 
And  some  of  them  were  disposed  to  carry  off  what 
they  might  find  of  the  possessions  of  the  Pil- 
grims, and  had  stolen  the  tools  of  Myles  Standish 
and  Francis  Cooke  one  day  when  the  latter  were  at 
work  in  the  woods. 

As  to  wild  beasts,  two  men  who  were  lost  and 
stayed  out  all  night  in  the  woods  said  they  heard 
lions  roaring ;  which  was  a  mistake,  of  course. 
They  placed  themselves  at  the  foot  of  two  very 
large  trees  so  that  if  the  lions  appeared  they  could 
run  up  quickly  and  be  out  of  their  reach.  But 


84  LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

wolves  were  plenty.  John  Goodman,  having  gone 
out  one  day  to  exercise  his  lame  feet,  —  lamed  by 
the  extreme  cold,  —  was  so  unlucky  as  to  meet  two 
large  ones.  They  chased  his  little  dog,  a  "  span- 
nell,"  who  took  refuge  with  his  master.  And  the 
latter,  having  in  his  hand  a  bit  of  paling  only  for 
defense,  faced  them.  But  they  did  not  offer  to 
touch  him.  They  sat  down  on  "  their  tayles  and 
grinned  at  him  "  as  long  as  it  pleased  them,  and 
then  went  their  ways. 

A  low  stone  post  at  each  corner  now  marks  the 
site  of  the  fort. 

"O  Dick!"  called  Suzette,  "come  and  see 
where  the  fort  was.  And  you  come  too,  Teddy. 'r 

"  Yes,  come  on,  Teddy,"  said  Dick. 

Teddy  followed  gladly,  yet  reluctantly :  gladly 
because  he  felt  they  really  wanted  him ;  reluct- 
antly because  he  knew  his  hands  were  dirty  and 
he  was  afraid  his  face  was.  He  felt  he  was  out 
of  place  beside  these  two,  fresh  as  the  morning 
and  with  such  well-kept  hands.  And  he  resolved 
that  never  again  should  Mrs.  White,  whose  chore- 
boy  he  was,  be  compelled  to  tell  him  to  wash 
his  hands. 

The  site  of  the  fort  is  thickly  covered  with 
green  grass,  but  Suzette  sat  down  upon  a  seat 


A  HISTORY  LESSON.  85 

hard  by  and  tried  to  "  imagine  "  it  as  it  stood  there 
in  all  its  roughness  and  squareness,  with  the  six 
cannon  upon  its  roof  that  shot  five-pound  iron 
balls.  This  fort  meeting-house,  or  meeting-house 
fort,  was  built  in  the  summer  of  1622.  Before 
that  the  Pilgrims  had  worshiped  in  the  Common 
House  and  the  cannon  had  been  mounted  on  a 
platform. 

No  concreted  way  led  up  the  hill  then.  ^  But 
there  was  a  slope  of  green  turf  bespangled  with 
violets  and  dandelions  in  early  spring  and  with 
buttercups  in  the  later  summer. 

Up  this  steep  slope  the  Pilgrims  marched  in 
procession  every  Sunday.  They  formed  before 
the  door  of  Governor  Bradford's  house,  having 
been  called  together  by  beat  of  drum,  and  marched 
three  abreast,  carrying  their  muskets.  Captain 
Myles  Standish  walked  upon  one  side  of  the 
governor,  and  the  preacher  on  the  other,  with  the 
women  and  children  somewhere  in  the  midst,  I 
suppose.  The  governor  wore  a  long  robe,  and  the 
preacher  had  his  cloak  on,  as  did  Myles  Standish. 
The  latter  wore -his  side  arms  and  carried  a  small 
cane  in  his  hand.  So  they  worshiped  God  in  this 
rude  temple,  with  their  firearms  close  at  hand. 

This  is  the  way  they  did  in  early  New  England, 
for  nobody  ever  knew  when  the  foe,  that  is,  the 


86  LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

Indian,  might  be  upon  them.  Often  they  had  to 
break  away  from  prayer  and  praise  to  fight  for 
their  own  lives  and  those  of  their  wives  and 
children. 

"  I  can  imagine  I  see  them,"  said  Suzette,  in  her 
favorite  phrase.  "  The  men  with  their  pretty 
clothes,  ever  so  much  prettier  then  than  now,  with 
long  stockings  and  silver  buckles  in  their  shoes, 
and  broad  collars  and  ruffles,  and  their  muskets 
shining.  And  the  children,  with  little  kerchiefs 
over  their  shoulders,  skipping  along."  (I  fear 
Suzette  was  at  fault  there,  for  I  hardly  think 
the  children  were  allowed  to  skip  much  on  their 
way  to  meeting).  "  And  the  mothers,  looking 
so  sweet  and  anxious,  and  pretty  Priscilla  Mullins 

—  shouldn't  you   like   to   have   seen   her,    Dick? 

—  and  little   Humilitie  Cooper;  I  wonder   if  she 
picked    any   buttercups    on   the  way ; "    and    Su- 
zette looked  fondly  down  upon  the  golden  bouquet 
tucked  into  her  white  frock.     "And  over  there 
maybe,  the  Indians  were  peeping  and  wondering 
what  was  going  on.     And  there  was  no  lighthouse 
on  the  Gurnet  for  company,  and  no  houses  on  the 
Duxbury   shore  —  only   the   sea   and   woods    and 
sky." 

The  little  Humilitie  Cooper,  of  whom  Suzette 
was  so  fond,  in  1623  had  a  whole  "aker  " — for  so 


A  HISTORY  LESSON.  8/ 

it  is  spelled  in  the  Old  Colony  Records  —  given 
to  her  when  the  land  was  assigned.  And  in  1627, 
when  the  cattle  were  divided,  she  came  in  for  a 
share  of  one  tenth  of  "  the  blind  heifer  and  two 
she-goats." 

Cattle  were  precious  in  the  old  Pilgrim  town 
then.  The  first  were  brought  over  by  Edward 
Winslow  in  1624,  and  we  read  in  the  records, 
under  date  of  January  20,  1627,  that  "Edward 
Winslow  had  sold  unto  Myles  Standish  his  six 
shares  in  the  Red  Cow."  They  apparently  owned 
shares  in  cows  as  we  do  in  banks  and  railroads, 
and  took  their  dividends  in  milk  and  calves. 

"  Dick,"  Suzette  went  on  after  a  pause  and  in  a 
confidential  tone,  "  they  say,  you  know,  that  not 
a  Pilgrim  wanted  to  go  back  in  the  Mayflower. 
But  I  'm  afraid  I  should  have  wanted  to  go." 

"  I  should  n't,"  replied  Dick,  with  a  backward 
toss  of  his  head. 

"Not  as  the  conqueror  comes, 

They,  the  true-hearted,  came ; 
Not  with  the  roll  of  the  stirring  drums, 
And  the  trumpet  that  sings  of  fame ; 

Not  as  the  flying  come, 

In  silence  and  in  fear  — 
They  shook  the  depths  of  the  desert  gloom 

With  their  hymns  of  lofty  cheer." 


88  LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

Dick  struck  an  attitude  and  declaimed  this  so 
loudly  and  vehemently  that  the  tourists  stopped 
munching  peanuts  for  a  perceptible  instant,  and 
wondered  if  "that  boy"  were  going  mad,  or  what 
ailed  him. 

"When  a  fellow  has  once  started  on  a  thing 
like  that,  Sue,  he  does  n't  back  out.  He  's  true 
blue." 

"  That 's  so,"  replied  Suzette,  converted  from 
her  momentary  heresy.  "  And,  Dick,  if  yoy  had 
wanted  to  stay,  I  should,  of  course." 

It  was  always  very  much  "  of  course "  with 
Suzette.  What  Dick  did  she  always  wanted  to 
do,  and  it  was  a  great  comfort  to  her  to  know  that 
when  Dick  went  to  college  she  would  go  too.  And 
what  he  was  going  to  be  she  would  be  —  doctor, 
ranchman,  artist,  engineer ;  no  matter  what.  But 
the  company  would  be  "  Waterman  &  Water- 
man "  ;  of  that  she  was  sure. 

"  And  that,"  continued  Suzette,  looking  over 
to  what  is  now  Watson's  Hill,  "  must  be  Straw- 
berry Hill  over  there,  where  Massasoit  came. 
It  was  opposite  Burial  Hill,  you  know,  with  the 
'  sweete  brooke '  between.  But  it 's  all  houses 
now.  I  wish  I  knew  exactly  where  Massasoit  and 
Myles  Standish  met ; "  and  she  peered  down 


A  HISTORY  LESSON.  89 

among  the  roofs  and  chimneys  which  lie  under 
the  hill  to  the  south. 

All  this  talk  was  Greek  to  Teddy,  who  listened, 
however,  with  both  ears.  He  knew  something  of 
the  geography  of  Africa,  and  had  acquired,  through 
a  reluctant  study  of  United  States  history,  —  the 
dirty  and  dog's-eared  condition  of  his  own  partic- 
ular volume  showing  how  reluctant,  — a  vague  idea 
of  certain  events  and  persons  such  as  the  Revolu- 
tionary War  and  George  Washington.  But  of  the 
early  history  and  topography  of  the  old  Pilgrim 
town  in  which  he  lived,  and  in  whose  historic 
streets  he  walked  and  played  daily,  he  knew 
nothing. 

History,  from  its  very  remoteness,  was  uninter- 
esting, and  had  he  known  that  he  was  to  listen 
to  a  long  passage  from  that  hated  study  when  he 
asked,  turning  his  eyes  upon  Suzette,  "  Who  were 
them  fellers,  any  way  ? "  I  fear  he  would  never 
have  asked  the  question. 

"  Why,  don't  you  know,  Teddy  ?  Don't  you 
really  know  about  the  Pilgrims?"  asked  Suzette, 
who,  with  Dick,  had  come  to  the  conclusion  that 
Teddy's  assertion  that  Columbus  had  landed  on 
Plymouth  Rock  was  only  "bluff." 

"  No,  I  don't,"  replied  Teddy  promptly,  having 


90  LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

the  courage  of  his  ignorance,  and  taking  the  first 
step  in  the  path  of  knowledge  by  confessing  that 
ignorance. 

And  so  Suzette  began  at  the  beginning  and  told 
him  the  whole  beautiful  story  in  her  own  way, 
weaving  in  much  poetry,  it  is  true,  but  then  there 
is  a  good  deal  of  poetry  in  history,  though  many 
historians  have  not  yet  found  that  out,  especially 
those  who  write  the  school  histories. 

It  was  the  most  fitting  place  in  the  old  Pilgrim 
town  in  which  to  listen  to  that  story  for  the  first 
time,  for  there  lay  the  scene  of  it  spread  out  all 
around  them.  In  the  distance,  dimly  seen  above 
the  blue  sea,  was  a  portion  of  the  sandy  shores 
of  Cape  Cod.  Around  Beach  Point  a  small  vessel 
was  trimming  her  sails,  and  one  could  easily  imag- 
ine her  to  be  the  Mayflower  herself.  The  rock 
was  hidden  from  their  view,  it  is  true,  and  Cole's 
Hill  was  only  a  confusion  of  housetops.  But 
Teddy,  listening  eagerly,  caught  something  of 
Suzette's  enthusiasm,  and  the  wintry  weather,  the 
icy  shores,  and  the  snow-covered  hill  became  very 
clear  to  him. 

Just  below  them  sloped  the  street  of  the  seven 
houses,  and  all  around  were  the  old  graves  set 
with  thick  slate  stones  brought  from  England. 


A  HISTORY  LESSON.  91 

And  there  on  the  topmost  height  of  the  hill  stood 
the  small  white  shaft  which  marks  the  grave  of 
William  Bradford,  that  brave  man  and  true,  who 
was  governor  of  Plymouth  Plantation  from  1621 
to  1657,  with  the  exception  of  five  years  during 
which  he  begged  off. 

Just  think  of  what  stuff  a  man  must  have  been 
made  who  did  not  care  for  the  office  of  governor, 
but  who  wished  to  spend  and  be  spent  for  the 
good  of  the  colony !  That 's  the  man  for  a  boy 
to  pattern  after ! 

"  And  the  day  they  landed  was  the  twenty-first 
of  December,"  said  Suzette,  after  getting  her 
Pilgrims  comfortably  on  shore. 

"  The  twenty-first  !  Why,  that 's  th'  day  we 
alwa's  have  sukitash !  Miss  Pen  alwa's  sends 
some  to  little  Bess  an'  me." 

Here  was  something  at  last  that  Teddy  knew 
about.  He  had  eaten  of  that  palatable  dish  which 
is  made  on  Forefathers'  Day  in  almost  every 
household  in  Plymouth  that  is  able  to  get  together 
the  many  ingredients,  —  the  hulled  corn,  beans, 
corned  beef,  chickens,  and  what  not,  —  for  the 
writer  confesses  her  ignorance  of  the  essential 
parts  of  succotash,  though  she  has  often  partaken 
of  the  savory  mess  with  the  completest  satis- 
faction. 


92  LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

"  Sukitash  !  what 's  sukitash  ?  "  asked  Suzette, 
adopting  Teddy's  pronunciation. 

"  It  's  succotash,  Sue.  Don't  you  remember 
when  mamma  made  some  once  for  papa  ?  Papa 
said  he  wished  he  could  have  some  Plymouth 
succotash  once  more.  And  so  mamma  and  Felice 
made  some  after  he  had  told  them  as  near  as  he 
could.  And  papa  said  he  did  n't  wish  to  hurt 
their  feelings,  but  they'd  better  give  it  to  the 
pigs." 

"But  Teddy  says  they  always  have  it  every 
twenty-first,  the  day  the  Pilgrims  landed.  I  won- 
der why  that  is  ? " 

"  I  don't  know,  I  'm  sure,"  said  Dick.  "  Do 
you,  Teddy  ? " 

But  of  course  Teddy  did  not  know,  and  I  am 
not  sure  anybody  does.  Certainly  the  Pilgrims 
did  not  have  anything  so  good  for  many  a  day 
after  they  landed.  They  had  corn  after  a  while, 
and  beans,  and  we  read  about  lobsters  and  fish, 
and  a  bit  of  venison  now  and  then.  But  they 
were  often  reduced  to  great  straits  and  had  to 
practice  a  rigid  frugality  in  the  matter  of  food. 

Succotash,  too,  was  really  an  Indian  dish,  and 
a  fine  mess  it  was  as  they  made  it,  putting  in  all 
sorts  of  unspeakable  things  ! 


A  HISTORY  LESSON.  93 

But  whether  the  custom  of  providing  succotash 
for  Forefathers'  Day  has  or  has  not  an  historical 
foundation,  no  eater  thereof  will  seriously  object 
to  its  observance. 

"  And  that  about  the  Injuns,"  said  Teddy. 
"Was  there  Injuns  here  once  ?" 

"  Why,  of  course,  Teddy ;  there  were  Indians 
everywhere  in  America  once." 

Then  Suzette  told  him  about  the  coming  of 
Samoset  and  of  Massasoit.  How  Massasoit  came 
one  day  in  April,  1621,  with  sixty  of  his  Indians, 
and  took  his  stand  on  Strawberry  Hill ;  and  how 
the  Pilgrims  sent  over  Edward  Winslow  to  see 
him,  carrying  a  pair  of  knives  and  a  copper  chain 
with  a  jewel  in  it  as  a  gift  for  Massasoit ;  and  for 
his  brother  Quadequina,  a  knife  and  a  jewel  to 
hang  in  his  ear,  together  with  "  strong  water 
and  bisket."  And  how  by-and-by  Massasoit  him- 
self crossed  the  brook  —  Edward  Winslow  staying 
behind  as  hostage  —  and  Myles  Standish  and 
Master  Williamson  1  met  him  with  an  escort  and 
took  him  down  the  street  of  the  seven  houses 
to  the  Common  House,  where  he  was  given  a 
"greene  rugge  "  and  cushions  to  sit  on,  which  was 

1  Master  Williamson  has  lately  been  discovered  to  have   been  the 
supercargo  of  the  Mayflower. 


94  LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

as  near  a  throne  as  they  could  come  in  their 
poverty ;  for  Massasoit  was  king  of  the  Wampa- 
noags,  and  they  wished  to  do  him  honor. 

He  had  a  grave  countenance  and  he  did  not 
talk  much,  and  although  he  was  "  a  lustie  man," 
it  was  noticed  that,  as  he  sat  upon  his  impro- 
vised throne  by  the  side  of  Governor  Carver,  he 
trembled. 

They  made  a  treaty  with  him,  and  then  he 
went  back  to  his  village  of  Sowams,  now  Warren, 
in  Rhode  Island. 

Massasoit  was  a  fast  friend  of  the  Pilgrims  from 
that  day  to  the  end  of  his  life. 

At  one  time,  when  he  was  sick  in  his  own  house 
at  Sowams,  Edward  Winslow,  hearing  of  his  ill- 
ness, went  to  him,  taking  another  Indian,  named 
Hobomock,  as  a  guide.  On  the  way  some  Indians 
told  them  Massasoit  was  already  dead,  and  Hobo- 
mock,  who  greatly  loved  him,  broke  out  into  lam- 
entations :  — 

"  My  loving  Sachem  !  my  loving  Sachem  !  many 
have  I  known,  but  never  any  like  thee."  And 
then  he  went  on  to  say  that  Massasoit  was  no  liar ; 
he  was  not  bloody  and  cruel  like  the  other  Indians  ; 
he  soon  got  over  his  anger  and  was  forgiving. 

On  arriving  at  Massasoit's    wigwam,    however, 


A  HISTORY  LESSON.  95 

they  found  that  the  Indians  had  lied  to  them,  and 
that  the  chief,  although  very  ill,  was  still  alive. 
He  was  quite  blind  from  the  disease,  and  when  he 
was  told  that  Winslow  had  come,  he  put  out  his 
hand  and  groped  for  his,  and  took  it  and  said 
faintly :  — 

"Art  thou  Winsnow  ? "  and  when  he  was  told 
that  it  was  indeed  he,  he  exclaimed,  "  O  Win- 
snow,  I  shall  never  see  thee  again  ! " 

But  Winslow  turned  out  the  medicine-men,  who 
were  making  a  great  pow-wow  in  order  to  drive  off 
the  evil  spirit  which  they  thought  was  making 
Massasoit  ill,  and  nursed  him  himself,  and  in  a 
short  time  he  was  so  much  better  that  he  sat  up. 

"Now  I  see,"  he  said,  "that  the  English  are 
my  friends  and  love  me,  and  while  I  live  I  shall 
never  forget  this  kindness  they  have  shown." 

Before  they  went  away  he  called  Hobomock 
to  him,  and  told  him  of  a  great  conspiracy  that 
the  Massachusetts  and  other  Indians  had  entered 
into  to  kill  all  the  whites,  and  which  they  had 
tried  to  persuade  him  to  join.  He  advised  the 
Pilgrims  to  strike  the  first  blow,  and  spoil  the 
plot  by  killing  the  ringleaders. 

Hobomock  also  continued  a  good  friend  to  the 
Pilgrims,  and  in  the  allotment  of  land  in  1624  a 


96  LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

parcel  was  given  to  him.  He  became  a  member 
of  Myles  Standish's  family,  and  his  guide  and 
interpreter  on  his  expeditions. 

Samoset  brought  still  another  Indian  to  the 
Pilgrims  at  Plymouth.  He  was  named  Squanto 
and  was  the  only  one  left  of  the  Patuxet  tribe, 
which  had  been  killed  off  by  pestilence  three 
years  before  the  coming  of  the  Pilgrims,  and 
whose  lands  they  occupied.  He  had  been  seized 
and  carried  off  by  a  man  named  Hunt,  who  meant 
to  sell  him  for  a  slave  into  Spain.  But  Squanto 
got  away  to  England  and  so  back  to  his  old  home. 

He  could  talk  English,  and  became  very  useful 
to  the  Pilgrims.  He  showed  them  how  to  enrich 
their  ground  with  fish,  putting  a  herring  into  each 
hill  of  corn.  These  herring  came  up  the  "  brooke 
of  sweet  waters  "  in  the  early  spring,  and  were 
caught  by  thousands.  He  told  them,  too,  the 
right  time  in  which  to  plant  their  corn  —  when 
the  leaves  of  the  white  oak  are  as  big  as  the  ears 
of  a  mouse.  And  after  they  had  planted  their 
corn  they  set  a  watch  over  it  every  night  for 
fourteen  nights,  lest  the  wolves,  digging  for  the 
buried  fish,  should  dig  up  the  corn  also.  In  four- 
teen days  the  fish  decayed  so  that  the  wolves  did 
not  care  for  them. 


A  HISTORY  LESSON.  97 

It  must  be  confessed  that  Squanto  was  not 
strictly  honest  in  all  his  dealings,  but  then,  what 
could  be  expected  of  an  untaught  Indian  who 
himself  had  been  treacherously  dealt  with  ?  But 
he  loved  the  English,  and  when  he  was  dying  he 
asked  Governor  Bradford  to  pray  that  he  might  go 
to  the  Englishman's  God  in  heaven. 

The  Pilgrim  fort  stood  upon  the  south-easterly 
spur  of  the  hill,  but  when  they  built  their  watch- 
house  in  1643,  they  put  that  upon  the  summit. 
Stone  posts  now  mark  its  site.  Another  was 
built  later  on  the  same  spot.  From  this  site  bits 
of  window  glass  have  been  taken,  although  the 
early  houses  had  no  window  glass. 

Window  glass  was  then  but  little  used  even  in 
England,  and  the  Pilgrims  used  oiled  paper  as  a 
substitute.  This  let  in  plenty  of  light,  ordinarily, 
but  of  course  no  one  could  see  through  it,  and 
the  interior  effect  on  a  rainy  day  in  summer  or  in 
winter,  when  the  outer  door  had  to  be  shut,  must 
have  been  dismal  enough.  But  then  there  was 
always  the  great  cheery  fire  in  the  great  fire-place. 
When  the  time  came  that  they  did  have  glass, 
the  panes  were  small,  diamond-shaped,  and  set  in 
lead,  such  as  you  see  in  English  cottages  to-day. 
We  must  remember  that  many  things  which  we 


98 


LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 


consider  essential  to  comfortable,  even  to  decent, 
living  were  unknown  to  the  Pilgrims. 

How,  think  you,  could  you  get  on  without 
forks  ?  And  yet  Queen  Elizabeth  and  Shakespeare 
and  Walter  Raleigh,  all,  doubtless  ate  without 
forks.  Occasionally  we  hear  of  a  silver  fork  with 
which  to  eat  fruit.  But  the  Englishman  of  that 
day  commonly  ate  with  his  knife.  With  a  napkin 
in  his  left  hand  he  held  his  food  and  cut  it  with 
the  right  hand.  Old  table  knives  are  still  in 
existence  which  are  rounded  out  on  the  back, 
near  the  end,  this  little 
shelf  being  doubtless 
provided  to  convey  the 
food  safely  to  the  mouth. 

The  floors  of  the  pal- 
aces of  England  were 
then  strewn  with  rushes, 
so  a  visitor  would  not 
have  expected  to  find 
carpets  in  the  small  ELDER  HREWSTER'S  CHAIR. 
log-houses  at  Plymouth. 

And  as  regards  chairs,  the  Pilgrims  had  a  few, 
we  know,  for  we  see  to-day  in  Pilgrim  Hall  the 
stout  arm-chairs  of  Governors  Carver  and  Winslow 
and  of  Elder  Brewster.  But  chairs  were  few,  and 


A   HIST  OX  Y  LESSON. 


99 


most  of  the  Pilgrims,  the  children  most  certainly, 
sat  on  nothing  more  luxurious  than  a  three-legged 
wooden  stool.  Their  plates  were  of  pewter  or 
of  wood.  So  were  their  platters  and  bowls. 

Suzette's  story  was  brought  to  an  abrupt  close 
by  the  simultaneous  peal  of  the  bell  in  the  church- 
tower  below  them 
and  the  striking  of 
the  town-clock, 
both  of  which  an- 
nounced the  dinner 
hour. 

"Good-by,  Ted- 
dy," said  Dick. 
"  Come  and  tell  me 
how  you  come  out, 
to-morrow." 

"  All  right,"  said 
GOVERNOR  CARVER'S  CHAIR.         Teddy. 
He  watched  their  rapid  plunge  down  the  hill, 
and  then  himself  walked   slowly  down   the  stone 
steps  leading  into  Spring  Street. 

What  a  handsome,  jolly,  kindly  pair  they  were! 
he  reflected,  though  not  using  these  words  per- 
haps. Nothing  so  beautiful  and  beneficent  had 
ever  come  into  his  life  before.  How  did  it  happen 


IOO        LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AJ:  PLYMOUTH. 

they  were  so  good  to  him  ?  They  did  n't  seem  to 
mind  one  bit  his  ragged  clothes  or  rough  speech. 
For  Teddy  had  begun  to  be  dimly  conscious,  since 
he  had  known  these  two,  that  his  speech  was 
rough.  He  wondered  if  he  could  grow  like  Dick 
if  he  tried.  'T  was  worth  trying  for,  any  way. 
And  he'd  just  go  and  own  up  to  Miss  Moore  the 
first  thing.  That 's  what  Dick  said  he  V  do.  How 
awful  nice  it  must  be  to  have  a  mother  that  could 
make  a  boy  like  that  !  And  he  thrust  his  hands 
into  his  pockets  and  walked  on  whistling  "  Sweet 
Violets." 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

TO    AND    FRO    IN    PILGRIM    LAND. 

New    occasions    teach    new   duties;     time    makes    ancient   good 

uncouth; 
We  must  upward   still   and   onward  who  would   keep   abreast   of 

truth; 
Lo,  before  us  gleam  her  camp-fires !  we  ourselves  must   pilgrims 

•be, 

Launch  our  Mayflower,  and   steer   boldly  through   the   desperate 
winter  sea. 

—  y antes  Russell  Lowell. 

r  I  ^HEY  were  at  the  east  window  of  uncle 
-*•  Tom's  own  room.  They  had  been  talking 
about  the  twin  lights  over  on  the  Gurnet,  which, 
like  those  of  all  lighthouses,  are  kindled  at  sun- 
set ;  talking,  too,  of  other  things. 

Uncle  Tom  was  in  his  great  easy-chair,  resting 
after  a  hard  day's  work,  and  Suzette  was  standing 
beside  him,  with  his  arm  around  her.  It  was  after 
this  fashion  that  she  talked  over  things  with  he* 
father  when  at  home. 

"  And  can't  you  cure  her,  uncle  Tom  ? "  she 
asked. 

"I'm  doing  my  best,    pussy,"    was    the   reply. 

101 


IO2         LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

"  I  'm  glad  you  've  seen  her.  'T  was  like  her  to 
speak  to  you.  She 's  a  jolly  little  thing." 

"  Oh,  uncle  Tom  !  " 

"Well?" 

"I  don't  see  how  she  can  be." 

"No,  I  dare  say  not.  It  is  n't  easy  for  any  of 
us  to  understand  how  a  person  can  be  happy  with- 
out the  very  things  we  think  essential  to  our  own 
happiness." 

"That 's  just  it,  uncle  Tom.  I  don't  see  how  a 
girl  can  be  happy  who  can't  run  and  ride  and  row 
and  dance  —  only  just  lie  still  and  bear  the  pain." 
Then  after  a  moment,  softly,  "  Poor  little  Bess  !  " 

"Don't  pity  her,  puss." 

"  Why  not  ? " 

"  She  does  n't  need  it."  Then,  as  Suzette  looked 
at  him  inquiringly,  "  Do  you  think  she  does  ?  I 
don't  believe  there  's  a  happier  girl  in  Plymouth 
than  little  Bess.  Then  why  should  you  pity  her  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  don't  understand !  "  said  Suzette  again. 

"And  I'm  glad  you  don't,"  was  uncle  Tom's 
reply.  "  Nobody  can  exactly  understand  another's 
experience.  And  I  'm  sure  I  'm  glad  you  have  n't 
had  little  Bess's."  Then,  after  a  pause:  "You 
remember  who  it  was  that  said,  '  I  am  the  good 
Shepherd  '  ?  and,  pussy,  what  do  your  shepherds 


TO  AND  FRO  IN  PILGRIM  LAND.  1 03 

on  the  ranch  do  when  there  's  a  weak  little  lamb 
who  can't  walk? " 

"  They  take  it  up  and  carry  it,  uncle  Tom." 

"And  just  so  it  is  that  He  gathers  the  lambs  in 
his  arms  and  carries  them  in  his  bosom  —  the 
weak  ones,  who,  like  little  Bess,  can't  run  and  skip 
with  the  rest.  And  I  think  he  must  have  a  special 
tenderness  for  them  and  must  whisper  many  loving 
things  to  them  by  the  way  that  fill  them  with  hap- 
piness, though  they  can  not  run  and  skip.  No, 
pussy,  I  don't  think  that  any  one  who  knows  little 
Bess  ever  thinks  of  pitying  her.  She  is  such  a 
little  sunbeam  that  people  are  much  more  likely 
to  come  away  from  her  pitying  themselves  because 
they  are  not  so  happy  as  she." 

"  Has  n  't  she  ever  walked  one  bit  in  her  whole 
life  ?  " 

"  Not  a  step,"  said  uncle  Tom. 

There  was  a  long  silence,  and  then  uncle  Tom, 
jumping  up  briskly,  said,  "  Come,  let 's  go  out  under 
the  lindens.  I  hear  aunt  Pen  and  Dick  out  there, 
and  the  band  is  playing  in  the  square." 

This  large  old  house  of  uncle  Tom's,  with  its 
wide-spreading  lindens,  was  a  never-failing  delight 
to  Suzette  that  summer.  It  was  built  by  a  great- 
grandson  of  Governor  Edward  Winslow,  who  was 


IO4         LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

himself  named  Edward,  and  who  had  had  the 
frame  and  carvings  brought  from  England.  And 
Suzette  had  a  great  many  fancies  about  those  old 
timbers  that  showed  themselves  here  and  there  in 
the  corners  and  as  cornices  ;  timbers  of  stout 
English  oak  that  had  been  growing  nobody  knows 
how  many  years  —  a  thousand  perhaps  —  before 
they  were  cut.  Very  likely,  as  she  told  aunt  Pen, 
they  might  have  sheltered  King  Arthur  and  his 
Knights  of  the  Round  Table  —  a  pretty  wild 
flight  of  the  imagination,  but  one  which  aunt 
Pen  did  not  discourage.  Aunt  Pen  was  a  model 
aunt,  who  believed  in  allowing  young  folks  large 
liberties  in  this  direction.  She  was  n't  above 
such  things  herself.  She  read  the  Arabian 
Nights  through  once  every  three  years,  and 
declared  she  found  it  just  as  interesting  as  it  was 
when  she  was  a  girl  in  pantalettes.  And  she 
acknowledged  that  she  still  often  liked  to  plan 
what  she  would  wish  for  if  she  had  Aladdin's 
lamp. 

Well,  the  horses  came,  a  pretty  pair  of  black 
animals,  named,  as  so  many  pairs  are,  for  the 
famous  Castor  and  Pollux,  and  upon  them  Dick 
and  Suzette  scoured  the  Pilgrim  country  far  and 
near. 


TO  AND  FRO  IN  PILGRIM  LAND.  105 

Down  the  long,  sandy  beach  to  the  point, 
Castor,  who  never  could  get  used  to  the  dash  and 
sound  of  the  waves,  capering  and  dancing  all  the 
way,  while  Pollux  sniffed  the  sea-air  as  though  he 
loved  it.  Every  day  at  first  it  was  a  new  way, 
leading  through  thick  bowery  woods,  perhaps,  to 
South  Pond,  the  road  an  old  Indian  path  running 
along  the  ridges  of  the  hills,  and  now  and  then 
through  an  opening  in  the  trees  giving  a  glimpse 
of  the  sea,  "  the  real,  real  sea,"  as  Suzette  was 
fond  of  saying. 

Or,  further  still,  to  Long  Pond,  eight  miles 
away,  one  of  the  twenty  or  more  ponds  and  pond- 
lets  to  be  found  in  Plymouth  township.  Long 
Pond  is  a  lovely  sheet  of  water  set  amid  sloping 
green  hills,  with  miniature  pebbly  beaches,  and 
when  the  wind  is  high,  showing  miniature  white 
caps  and  a  miniature  surf. 

A  few  picturesque  summer  cottages  are  scattered 
about  its  shores,  and  the  old  Pierce  house  remains, 
at  which  Daniel  Webster  used  to  put  up,  when  he 
came  deer-hunting  with  Branch  Pierce  for  his 
guide.  The  shores  have  lost  the  solitary  sylvan 
aspect  they  had  in  Pilgrim  days,  when  none  but 
the  Indian,  the  deer,  and  the  wolf  roamed  here. 
But  they  are  none  the  less  beautiful. 


IO6         LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

Another  day  they  rode  as  far  as  Cedarville,  a 
quaint  fishing-village  nine  miles  below  Plymouth, 
where,  when  it  was  learned  that  they  were  the 
nephew  aud  niece  of  Doctor  Tom,  they  were  most 
hospitably  welcomed,  and  shown  the  lobster  pots 
and  boats  and  fishing-tackle. 

Sometimes  they  lost  their  way,  but  that  only 
added  to  the  fun.  They  always  came  out  right 
at  last.  Uncle  Tom,  returning  from  a  drive  far 
beyond  Manomet,  or  in  the  remotest  precinct  of 
Carver,  would  see  ahead  a  gallant  pair  coming 
on  at  a  rapid  canter,  who  as  they  drew  near  he 
would  recognize  as  those  "  harum-scarum  twins." 
Ranging  one  on  each  side  of  his  chaise,  they 
would  escort  him  home. 

Once,  in  a  lonely  spot  on  Manomet  Hill,  two 
eagles  swept  down  upon  them  as  though  they  in- 
tended to  carry  them  off,  circling  round  and  round 
above  their  heads,  and  causing  Castor  and  Pollux 
to  shy,  being  much  more  afraid  than  were  their 
riders,  to  whom  eagles  were  a  familiar  sight. 

On    another   never-to-be-forgotten  day  (in  fact, 
most  of  the  days  of  that  summer  could  have  been 
entered  in  this  catalogue,  being  red-letter  days  all 
of  them,  and  constituting  a  red-letter  summer)  - 
on  that  day  they  took  the  high,  breezy  road  leading 


TO  AND  FRO  IN  PILGRIM  LAND.  107 

over  to  Kingston  town.  It  was  to  be  an  all-day 
ride,  they  told  Mehitable,  and  would  she  put  them 
up  a  cozy  lunch  ? 

"  You  do  get  up  such  capital  lunches,  Mehita- 
ble," said  Dick.  "  Felice  can't  hold  a  candle  to 
you."  And  Mehitable  smiled  grimly  upon  the 
young  flatterer. 

Felice  was  the  French  cook  at  the  Waterman 
ranch,  brought  by  Mrs.  Richard  Waterman,  who 
was  a  Frenchwoman,  from  her  own  province. 

"  You  're  jest  like  your  father  for  coaxin'.  He 
could  get  anything  out  o'  me  the  old  doctor  used 
t'  say.  Well,  well,  he  was  the  baby,  and  he  did 
about 's  he  was  a  mind  to  with  everybody.  But 
how  he  can  let  you  two  child'en  ride  on  them  two 
dancin'  creaturs  is  unaccountable  ; "  the  last  being 
a  favorite  word  with  Mehitable. 

So  she  put  them  up  a  dainty  lunch  of  chicken 
sandwiches,  and  biscuits,  and  pound  cake  made 
from  the  famous  Waterman  receipt,  and  watched 
them  as  they  trotted  slowly  up  North  Street,  say- 
ing to  aunt  Penelope,  who  was  similarly  occupied, 
"They  can't  be  beat  in  this  part  of  th'  country, 
whatever  they  've  got  out  west."  And  then,  as 
Castor  made  his  usual  shy  at  the  water-cart, 
"  Dear  !  dear  !  he  '11  be  fetched  home  half-killed 


108        LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

some  day.  How  can  ye  let  'em  do  it,  Miss 
Penelope  ? " 

"Oh,"  said  aunt  Penelope  cheerfully,  hiding  her 
own  quake,  "they're  used  to  riding,  Mehitable. 
They  've  ridden  ever  since  they  were  big  enough 
to  sit  on  a  horse.  You  could  n't  tumble  them  off 
any  more  than  you  could  drown  a  duck." 

"  Get  safe  horses  and  don't  worry  about  them," 
their  father  had  written  to  Doctor  Tom.  "  When 
out-of-doors,  they  have  almost  lived  on  the  backs 
of  their  Indian  ponies." 

But  Mehitattle  went  back  to  the  kitchen  shak- 
ing her  head  doubtfully.  How  anybody  could 
mount  a  horse  or  get  into  a  boat  of  their  own  free 
will  was  certainly  to  her  "  unaccountable." 

The  road  from  Plymouth  to  Kingston  lies 
nearly  the  whole  way  within  view  of  the  sea. 
That  morning  there  was  a  partial  mirage,  and  the 
whole  length  of  the  cape  was  visible,  with  Cape 
Cod  Bay  lying  between,  smooth  and  placid  as  a 
lake.  A  flock  of  sails,  looking  like  great  birds 
of  passage,  whitened  the  horizon,  and  a  steamer 
was  seen  afar  off,  moving  rapidly  and  trailing 
behind  it  its  plume  of  smoke. 

They  watered  their  horses  at  Cold  Spring,  and 
then,  getting  clear  of  the  town,  they  struck  into 


TO  AND  FRO  IN  PILGRIM  LAND. 

a  swift  gallop,  which  brought  them  just  in  time  to 
see  a  small  vessel  launched  from  her  ways  at  the 
Landing  in  Kingston.  This  Landing,  so  called,  is 
on  Jones  River,  named  from  the  master  of  the 
Mayflower,  and  up  which  the  exploring  party  went 
in  their  shallop  "  three  English  miles,"  and  which 
they  found  a  "very  pleasant  river  at  full  sea."  It 
is  a  lovely  stream,  winding  and  bending  upon  itself 
through  its  green  meadows,  and  so  narrow  that  it 
hardly  seemed  equal  to  taking  into  its  waters  the 
gallant  little  bark  that  plunged  so  proudly  and 
swiftly  down  that  day.  But  it  was,  and  with 
many  a  curve  and  ripple  sent  its  waves  over  the 
meadows  on  either  side  as  it  opened  its  arms  and 
took  her  in.  That  was  just  what  Suzette  said  it 
seemed  to  do  —  to  open  its  arms ;  and  she  was 
so  enthusiastic  over  it,  and  waved  her  handkerchief 
so  wildly,  that  a  gentleman  who  stood  by  her 
asked  her  if  she  had  never  seen  a  vessel  launched 
before,  and  when  she  said  no,  he  explained  many 
things  to  her  concerning  it. 

Here  too  she  found  traces  of  the  Pilgrims. 
Near  the  ship-yard  stands  an  old  house  two  stories 
in  front  and  sloping  to  one  in  the  rear,  which,  the 
same  gentleman  told  her,  was  the  home  of  Major 
John  Bradford,  grandson  of  Governor  Bradford. 


I  IO        LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

Suzette  looked  at  it  thoughtfully. 

"You 've  nothing  quite  so  old  as  that  in  Colo- 
rado," he  said. 

"Nothing  but  the  Rocky  Mountains,"  replied 
Suzette,  smiling.  "  And  a  Massachusetts  man 
said  such  a  droll  thing  once  about  the  Rocky 
Mountains.  They  were  only  great  heaps  of  rocks 
and  dirt,  he  told  mamma.  For  his  part  he  liked 
a  round,  grassy  hill,  like  the  Berkshire  Hills." 

From  the  Landing  they  rode  on  through  Stony 
Brook,  where,  it  is  said,  Governor  Bradford  lived 
for  a  short  time.  His  son,  Major  William  Brad- 
ford, also  lived  there,  and  owned  the  most  of  the 
land  now  occupied  by  that  pretty  village.  The 
site  of  the  old  Bradford  house  is  still  pointed  out. 

Leaving  Stony  Brook  behind,  they  proceeded 
on  to  Captain's  Hill  on  the  estate  of  Myles  Stand- 
ish,  to  which  he  removed  from  Plymouth  in  1631. 
The  hill  is  not  high,  and  they  rode  easily  up  to 
the  monument  that  stands  upon  its  summit.  This 
monument  is  surmounted  by  a  statue  of  the 
doughty  little  captain ;  for  Myles  Standish,  though 
a  brave  man,  was  small.  But  a  man's  bravery  is 
not  to  be  measured  by  his  size,  as  we  all  know. 
Nelson,  one  of  the  bravest  of  men,  was  exceed- 
ingly small.  So  was  Livingstone,  one  of  the 
heroes  of  our  nineteenth  century. 


TO  AND  FRO  IN  PILGRIM  LAND.  Ill 

The  site  of  Myles  Standish's  house  is  some 
distance  from  the  hilltop,  and  beyond  the  long 
and  gradual  slope  of  that  side.  The  stones  which 
formed  the  foundations  of  the  house  are  tumbled 
about,  the  place  having  been  dug  over  and  over 
for  relics.  Wild  shrubs  and  willows  grow  among 
them.  It  is  close  to  the  seashore  and  opposite 
the  head  of  Plymouth  Beach,  certainly  as  pleasant 
and  commodious  a  spot  as  he  could  have  found 
upon  his  estate,  which  comprised  the  whole  of 
this  peninsula.  He  gave  to  it  the  name  of  Dux- 
borrow,  from  his  old  home  in  Lancashire,  England. 
Standish's  house  was  burned  after  his  death. 

Dick  and  Suzette  left  their  horses  to  be  fed  at 
a  house  near  the  foot  of  the  hill,  and  walked  up 
the  narrow  lane  and  through  the  gate  and  field 
that  leads  to  this  ancient  site.  Not  far  away  is 
the  spring  from  which  the  family  must  have  had 
their  water-supply.  It  is  not  a  limpid,  sparkling 
spring,  but  is  a  small,  dark  pool.  There  is  a 
tangle  of  sedge  and  rose-bushes  and  other  wild 
growths  on  one  side,  and  on  the  other  a  path 
where  the  cattle  come  to  drink.  A  weather- 
beaten  trellis  with  a  dwarfed  rose-bush  clinging 
to  it  marks  the  spot. 

Dick   and    Suzette    were    quite    sure    no    more 


112         LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

charming  place  could  be  found  in  which  to  eat 
Mehitable's  lunch.  And  spreading  their  water- 
proofs on  the  grass,  they  sat  down  by  the  spring 
and  dipped  in  their  drinking-cups. 

"  I  suppose  little  Lorea  Standish  has  dipped 
her  tin  dipper  in  here  many  and  many  a  time," 
said  Suzette.  "  Or  was  it  of  wood  ?  I  think  it 
must  have  been  a  wooden  dipper.  I  '11  ask  uncle 
Tom.  And  I  do  wish  we  knew  where  John  Alden 
lived.  He  lived  somewhere  in  Duxbury,  where 
he  brought  Priscilla  to.  What  a  pity  she  did  not 
really  ride  on  the  beautiful  white  bull,  as  Mr. 
Longfellow  says !  It  would  be  so  much  nicer  if  it 
were  really  true." 

"  You  can  imagine  it,  Suzette,"  said  Dick,  with 
a  slight  twinkle  in  his  eye. 

"  So  I  can,"  replied  Suzette,  unmindful  of  the 
twinkle.  "  How  pretty  she  must  have  looked  rid- 
ing along  through  the  woods  under  the  green  trees  ! 
And  then  they  had  to  cross  the  river  where  the 
vessel  was  launched.  But  she  would  n't  be  afraid 
—  a  Pilgrim  girl  would  n't  be  afraid.  There  was  n't 
any  road,  only  paths,  and  John  Alden  walked  be- 
side her.  I  wonder  if  he  wore  his  armor.  He 
had  his  musket,  of  course,  for  they  might  meet  an 
Indian  or  a  pair  of  wolves.  And  he  would  pick 


TO  AND  FRO  IN  PILGRIM  LAND.  I  13 

flowers  by  the  way  for  her.  What  a  lovely  wed- 
ding trip  it  was  !  And  then  they  came  to  his  little 
log-house  with  paper  windows  and  a  thatched  roof, 
and  he  helped  her  off,  and  they  went  in,  and  she 
sat  down  by  the  spinning-wheel  just  as  she  does 
in  the  pictures.  And  the  pewter  platters  shone 
on  the  dresser,  and  there  were  little  wooden  plates 
and  a  settle.  The  log-house  was  ever  and  ever  so 
small,  but  of  course  they  did  n't  care  for  that,  any 
more  than  papa  and  mamma  did  when  they  went 
to  housekeeping  in  the  little  sod-house.  Mamma 
said  she  was  as  happy  as  the  day  was  long.  What 
a  pity  it  is  n't  true  !  But,  Dick,  there  's  one  thing 
that  is  true.  She  really  did  say,  '  Prithee,  John, 
why  do  you  not  speak  for  yourself  ? '  when  he 
asked  her  to  marry  Myles  Standish." 

It  is  a  pity  that  Suzette's  pretty  idyl  is  not  true. 
It  seems  to  have  been  put  together  upon  the  plan 
of  the  pictures  of  the  famous  Turner,  who,  Mr. 
Ruskin  says,  was  not  particular  to  copy  exactly 
from  nature,  but  took  a  bit  here  and  a  bit  there, 
and  so  made  up  his  picture,  giving  a  true 
impression  of  the  scene  presented,  although  the 
details  were  inaccurate. 

At  any  rate,  Suzette's  idyl  is  quite  as  true  in 
detail  as  Mr.  Longfellow's. 


114         LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

"  Take  a  sandwich,"  said  Dick,  who  had  been 
diligently  eating  while  Suzette  talked.  "  They  're 
tip-top.  I  say,  I  don't  wonder  papa  says  he  should 
like  to  taste  some  of  Mehitable's  cooking  once 
more." 

"  Thanks.  But  don't  you  think  the  door  of 
Myles  Standish's  house  was  towards  Plymouth,  so 
little  Lorea  could  see  him  when  he  was  coming  ? 
She  must  have  been  dreadfully  anxious  when  he 
was  off  fighting  the  Indians." 

Myles  Standish  was  a  great  fighter,  that  is  true. 
It  had  been  his  business  from  boyhood.  He  had 
fought  in  a  good  many  battles  before  he  joined 
the  Pilgrims  at  Leyden.  For  he  was  not  a  true 
Pilgrim,  but  he  liked  these  brave  and  true  men, 
and  resolved  to  throw  in  his  lot  with  theirs.  He 
knew  they  would  have  perilous  times  in  the  new 
country  to  which  they  were  going,  and  he  could 
help  them.  And  I  really  do  not  see  how  they 
could  have  got  on  without  him.  We  have  seen 
how  he  was  the  first  to  fire  at  "  The  First 
Encounter." 

They  chose  him  for  their  captain  in  the  Feb- 
ruary after  their  arrival,  and  in  all  their  negotia- 
tions with  the  Indians  Captain  Standish  was  with 
them.  He  went  among  the  Indians  to  buy  corn 


TO  AND  FRO  IN  PILGRIM  LAND.  115 

for  food  and  to  get  skins  and  furs  to  send  to 
England. 

In  June,  1622,  two  vessels,  the  Charity  and  the 
Swan,  arrived  at  Plymouth,  bringing  sixty  men 
who  settled  at  Wessagussett,  now  Weymouth. 
They  stayed  awhile  at  Plymouth,  but  they  proved 
to  be  disorderly  men.  The  Pilgrims  gave  them 
from  their  scanty  stores  all  the  meal  they  could 
spare.  But  these  men  were  not  satisfied,  and 
meanly  stole  the  tender  young  corn  from  the 
fields  of  their  entertainers.  So  the  latter  were 
heartily  glad  when  they  removed  to  Wessa- 
gussett. 

But  they  dealt  no  more  honorably  with  the 
Indians  than  they  had  with  the  Pilgrims.  They 
stole  their  corn  and  conducted  so  badly  that  the 
Indians  formed  a  conspiracy  to  kill  not  only  them, 
but  the  whites  at  Plymouth.  Myles  Standish 
narrowly  escaped  being  assassinated.  He  was  on 
an  expedition  for  the  buying  of  corn  from  the 
Indians,  and  while  he  was  in  the  wigwam  of  one 
of  the  sachems,  Wituwamat,  a  chief  of  the  Massa- 
chusetts, begged  the  sachem  that  he  would  kill 
him,  together  with  all  his  men. 

"For,"  said  the  wily  Wituwamat,  "if  we  should 
kill  the  white  men  of  Wessagusset  only,  those  at 


Il6         LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

Plymouth  will  be  revenged  upon  us.  Now  we 
have  the  brave  little  captain  and  his  men  in  our 
power.  Persuade  him  to  send  to  his  boat  for  the 
rest  of  his  men,  and  we  will  kill  them  all  at  once." 

But  the  brave  captain  was  as  wily  as  the 
Indians,  and  could  not  be  persuaded  to  send  for 
his  men.  Then  a  treacherous  Indian  from  Cape 
Cod,  named  Paomet,  made  Standish  a  present  of 
some  corn,  and  offered  to  take  it  himself  to 
the  boat,  having  promised  the  other  Indians  to  kill 
him  while  he  slept.  But  Standish  could  not  sleep 
that  night,  and  did  not  even  lie  down,  but  paced 
to  and  fro  during  the  long  hours. 

"  Why  do  you  not  lie  down  and  sleep  ? "  asked 
the  wily  Indian,  who  was  on  the  watch. 

"  I  do  not  know  why  it  is,"  replied  Standish, 
"but  I  do  not  feel  like  sleeping." 

All  this  took  place  during  the  time  of  Wins- 
low's  visit  to  Massasoit  mentioned  in  the  seventh 
chapter.  It  was  also  told  in  that  chapter  how 
Massasoit  had  informed  Hobomock  of  this  same 
conspiracy.  On  the  return  of  Winslow  to  Ply- 
mouth he  found  Standish  already  returned.  The 
treacherous  Paomet  had  come  with  him,  but  Gov- 
ernor Bradford  soon  sent  him  about  his  business, 
and  then  took  counsel  together  with  Winslow 


TO  AND  FRO  IN  PILGRIM  LAND.  I  1  7 

and  Standish  as  to  what  it  was  best  to  do. 
Captain  Standish  was  despatched  with  a  company 
of  armed  men  to  bring  back  the  head  of  the 
bloodthirsty  Wituwamat,  to  be  set  up  on  a  pole 
on  top  of  the  fort,  as  a  terror  to  the  other 
Indians. 

For  that  was  the  custom  in  England  at  that 
time.  The  heads  of  so-called  enemies  of  the 
State  who  were  executed  were  set  up  on  Temple 
Bar,  London,  and  so  the  Pilgrims  followed  the 
custom  of  their  native  land  —  and  a  truly  bar- 
barous custom  it  was. 

Wituwamat  received  Captain  Standish  in  a  very 
insolent  manner.  The  Indians  sharpened  their 
dreadful  knives  in  the  very  faces  of  the  English, 
and  Wituwamat  especially  bragged  of  the  sharp- 
ness of  his  knife.  It  had  a  woman's  face  painted 
on  the  handle,  and  "by-and-by,"  said  Wituwamat, 
"  it  should  see,  and  by-and-by  it  should  eat,  but  not 
speak."  And  Pecksuot,  who  was  of  great  stature 
and  strength,  spoke  contemptuously  to  Standish. 

"  Though  you  be  a  great  captain,  you  are  but  a 
little  man ;  and  though  I  be  no  sachem,  I  am  a 
man  of  great  strength  and  courage,"  said  he. 

But  the  next  day  there  was  a  terrible  fight,  and 
not  only  Wituwamat,  but  Pecksuot,  was  killed. 


Il8         LITTLE   PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

"Ah  !"  said  Hobomock  to  Myles  Standish,  smil- 
ing, "  yesterday  Pecksuot  bragged  of  his  great  size 
and  strength  and  said  though  you  were  a  great 
captain  you  were  but  a  little  man.  But  to-day  I 
see  you  big  enough  to  lay  him  on  the  ground." 

They  brought  Wituwamat's  head  to  Plymouth, 
and  it  was  set  up  on  the  fort  on  Burial  Hill. 

Standish  helped  the  men  at  Wessagusset  to  em- 
bark in  a  small  vessel,  and  off  they  went,  having 
made  a  miserable  failure  of  their  settlement, 
though  they  had  bragged  to  the  Pilgrims  that 
they  were  so  much  better  off  than  they,  because 
they  —  the  Pilgrims  —  had  "  many  women  and 
children  and  weak  ones  among  them."  But 
women  and  children  are  the  "  hostages  of  for- 
tune," and  are  an  element  of  strength  in  the  set- 
tling of  a  new  country,  as  the  pages  of  history 
show. 

Sometimes  it  has  been  said  that  the  Pilgrims  of 
Plymouth  dealt  unfairly  and  hardly  with  the  In- 
dians. But  even  Massasoit,  as  we  have  seen,  coun- 
seled them  to  kill  the  ringleaders.  And,  by  doing 
so,  much  less  blood  was  shed  than  if  they  had  suf- 
fered the  conspiracy  to  go  on.  The  Pilgrims  were 
always  gentle  and  kind  to  the  Indians  when  they 
could  be.  In  September,  1621,  a  company,  with 


TO  AND  FRO  IN  PILGRIM  LAND.  1 19 

Squanto  for  a  guide,  went  in  their  shallop  to  Massa- 
chusetts Bay.  They  arrived"  at  what  is  now  the 
port  of  Boston,  and  cooked  and  ate  lobsters  under 
a  cliff,  supposed  to  be  Copp's  Hill.  At  one  village 
they  came  to  all  the  Indian  men  had  fled,  and  only 
the  women  were  left,  who  trembled  at  the  sight  of 
the  white  strangers.  "But,"  says  Winslow,  "see- 
ing our  gentle  carriage  towards  them,  they  took 
heart  and  entertained  us  in  the  best  manner  they 
could,  boiling  cod  and  such  other  things  as  they 
had  for  us." 

Poor  creatures !  They  had  reason  to  fear  the 
white  men  after  their  experience  with  such  as 
Hunt,  the  slave-stealer. 

"  That 's  the  last  sandwich,"  said  Dick,  shaking 
out  the  pink-and-white  Japanese  napkin  in  which 
they  were  wrapped.  "  Sue,  why  is  the  desert  of 
Sahara  a  good  place  to  picnic  in  ? " 

Suzette,  who  was  thoughtfully  dipping  her  hand 
into  the  spring  and  watching  the  drops  as  they  ran 
off  the  ends  of  her  fingers,  looked  up. 

"  The  desert  of  Sahara,  Dick  ?  I  'm  sure  I 
don't  know.  I  should  think  it  would  be  the  worst 
place  in  the  world  to  picnic  in.  Is  it  a  conun- 
drum ? " 

"It  is.     Give  it  up?" 

"  Yes." 


I2O         LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

"Because  of  the  sand  which  is  (sandwiches) 
there.  It  is  n't  original,  Sue.  But  I  say,  do 
you  suppose  Myles  Standish  ever  made  a  conun- 
drum ?" 

"  I  don't  see  why  not,"  replied  Suzette  stoutly ; 
"that  is,  if  he  liked  conundrums.  Some  people 
don't  like  them.  Uncle  Tom  says  they  are  beastly. 
But  I  think  he  liked  fun.  Sybil  Smythe  says  the 
Pilgrims  were  sour  and  grim,  and  wore  funny, 
peaked  hats,  and  talked  through  their  noses,  and 
never  kissed  the  babies  or  let  them  play  on  Sun- 
days. And  I  asked  her,  did  she  ever  read  the 
lovely  bits  in  Governor  Bradford's  book  about  how 
Elder  Brewster  and  Myles  Standish  took  care  of 
the  sick,  and  how  they  went  after  John  Billington 
when  he  was  lost,  and  if  you  '11  believe  it,  Dick, 
she  had  never  even  heard  of  Governor  Bradford's 
book.  It  was  worse  than  Teddy.  And  then  she 
said  she  descended  from  Governor  Carver,  and 
uncle  Tom  said  Governor  Carver  did  n't  have  any 
descendants.  He  heard  us  talking,  and  Sybil  col- 
ored up.  And  I  said  if  the  Pilgrims  did  n't  laugh 
much  it  was  because  they  had  such  hard  times. 
And  I  don't  believe  they  did  n't  kiss  the  babies, 

for 

•  The  bravest  are  the  tenderest,' 

you  know,  Dick,  and  they  were  brave." 


TO  AND  FRO  IN  PILGRIM  LAND.          121 

"  And  as  to  talking  through  their  noses,  it 's 
their  descendants  that  talk  through  their  noses. 
They  were  English,  and  the  English  don't  talk 
through  their  noses,  I  heard  papa  say  once," 
replied  Dick. 

Suzette  picked  a  bit  of  grass,  a  bunch  of  wild- 
rose  hips,  and  a  blossom  of  yellow  cinquefoil  which 
grew  by  the  spring,  and  put  them  carefully  into 
the  luncheon  case,  which  always  served  a  dou- 
ble purpose  on  their  excursions.  The  grass  and 
cinquefoil  would  be  pressed  between  the  leaves  of 
her  diary,  with  similar  flowers,  to  remind  her,  as 
nothing  else  could,  of  the  many  pleasant  Pilgrim 
places  she  visited.  Then  they  walked  along  the 
shore  and  up  again  to  the  hilltop,  looking  off  over 
the  bay,  which  had  freshened  under  a  west  wind 
and  was  dimpling  and  sparkling  in  the  sunlight. 

"  I  wish,  Dick,"  said  Suzette,  "  we  could  ride 
over  to  the  burial-ground  in  Marshfield  where  Per- 
egrine White  is  buried.  Do  you  think  we  've  time 
enough  ?  Uncle  Tom  said  we  should  be  on  the 
way." 

"  We  can  try  it,"  replied  Dick. 

And  in  a  few  moments  they  had  mounted  and 
were  off  at  a  spanking  rate,  the  man  who  had  fed 
their  horses  looking  after  them  with  wide-open  eyes 


TO  AMD  FRO  Iff  PILGRIM  LAND. 

and  mouth.  To  let  off  a  portion  of  Castor's  super- 
fluous spirits,  as  well  as  his  own,  Dick  leaped  the 
fence  by  the  roadside  once,  twice,  thrice. 

"Jemima!"  ejaculated  the  looker-on.  "Must 
be  them  two  grandchild'en  of  the  old  doctor  over 
t'  Plymouth.  They  said  they  beat  everything  for 
ridin',  an'  that 's  a  fact.  How  they  do  go  it !  Like 
a  streak  o'  lightnin' !  There  ! "  as  they  passed  out 
of  sight,  "I  would  n't  give  much  for  their  necks." 

But  with  the  freedom  and  ease  of  long-practiced 
riders,  the  two  galloped  steadily  on  over  the  sandy 
roads,  passing  now  and  then  through  piny  woods 
where  brown  needles  strewed  the  wayside,  and  the 
resinous  odor  of  which  is  so  much  finer  than  any 
distilled  perfumes.  They  at  last  came  out  —  fol- 
lowing directions  given  them  by  wayfarers  like 
themselves  —  by  the  small  enclosure  where  Pere- 
grine White,  the  baby  born  while  the  Mayflower  lay 
off  Cape  Cod,  was  laid  to  rest  after  a  long  life  of 
eighty  years.  It  is  a  secluded  spot,  from  whence 
you  look  off  over  the  flat  marshes,  a  wide  expanse, 
silent  save  for  the  occasional  call  of  a  passing  sea- 
gull or  other  aquatic  fowl.  Governor  Josias  Wins- 
low  is  buried  here,  the  first  native  governor  of 
Plymouth.  It  is  not  far  from  the  old  home  of 
Daniel  Webster,  who  himself  lies  here.  It  was  a 


TO  AND  FRO  IN  PILGRIM  LAND.  123 

spot  he  loved  well,  and  he  caused  the  trees  on  his 
plantations  to  be  so  cut  that,  through  a  long  vista, 
he  could  look  from  a  window  in  his  library  —  the 
window  above  the  fire-place  —  out  upon  this  quaint 
old  country  "bury ing-ground." 

Dick  and  Suzette  dismounted  and  walked  about 
for  a  brief  time,  and  then  back  through  Kingston 
again,  where  the  recently  launched  Stafford  floated, 
apparently  as  much  at  home  on  the  little  stream 
as  though  she  had  spent  her  six  years  there  instead 
of  as  many  hours  ;  and  then  on  through  Rocky 
Nook,  where  many  of  the  Mayflower  Pilgrims  came 
to  live  in  the  later  days  of  the  colony,  and  so  into 
Plymouth  town  just  as  the  sun  was  sending  level 
beams  of  golden  light  through  the  shallows  of  the 
bay. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE    ADVENTURE    OF   JOHN    BILLINGTON. 

Under  the  greenwood  tree, 
Who  loves  to  lie  with  me, 
And  tune  his  merry  note 
Unto  the  sweet  bird's  throat, 
Come  hither,  come  hither,  come  hither ! 

—  Shakespeare. 

T^ACH  day  when  they  returned  from  their  ride 
-*— '  they  did  two  things.  The  first  thing  was 
to  water  Castor  and  Pollux  at  the  drinking-font  on 
Spring  Hill.  On  the  font  is  this  inscription  :  — 

And  there  is  a  very  sweete  brooke 
Runnes  under  the  Hill  Side  and  many 
Delicate  springes  of  as  good  water 

As  can  be  drunke. 

Wm  Bradford  1620. 

A  neighboring  marketman  kindly  lent  them  a 
pail  for  their  horses,  while  they  themselves  took 
a  draught  of  the  "  sweete "  water  from  the  tin 
dipper  chained  to  the  font.  Though  there  are 
many  delicate  springs  along  the  brookside,  as  in 
Pilgrim  days,  this  is  preeminently  the  "  Pilgrim 
Spring." 


OUTLET,    BILLINGTON    SEA 


ADVENTURE    OF  JOHN  BILLING  TON.       125 

From  these  delicate  springs  the  old  Pilgrim 
town  was  supplied  with  water  for  many  genera- 
tions. Uncle  Tom  could  remember  when  a  cer- 
tain old  sexton,  a  true  Old  Mortality,  carried  it 
about  in  buckets  hung  from  his  shoulders  by  a 
kind  of  yoke. 

The  other  thing  was  to  ride  down  by  the  small 
gray  house  with  its  honeysuckle-shaded  window, 
and  tell  little  Bess  all  about  where  they  had  been. 
She  very  quickly  learned  to  recognize  the  tread  of 
Castor  and  Pollux ;  for  a  horse  has  as  individual 
a  step  as  has  a  man,  and  you  know  how  quickly 
we  learn  to  recognize  the  step  of  one  we  love. 
And  her  eyes  would  be  all  alight  and  eager  as 
they  drew  rein  by  her  window  and  the  horses 
thrust  in  their  heads.  When  there  was  a  long 
story  to  tell,  Suzette  would  say,  "We'll  just  ride 
up  and  leave  the  horses,  and  then  I  '11  come  back 
and  tell  you  all  about  it."  Dick  often  came  back 
too,  though  sometimes  taken  possession  of  by 
other  boys  for  a  game  of  ball  or  lawn  tennis. 
Suzette  played  lawn  tennis  also ;  but  so  deep  was 
her  interest  in  little  Bess,  and  so  much  had  she 
come  to  love  her,  that  no  pleasure  was  strong 
enough  to  draw  her  away  from  her  daily  visit  to 
her. 


126        LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

And  Teddy  ?  Ah,  Teddy  was  never  far  away 
in  those  days,  and  almost  always  they  saw  him 
either  going  out  or  returning,  and  he  touched  his 
bristling  straw  hat  with  an  awkward  courtesy,  it 
is  true,  but  it  was  a  real  courtesy.  He  had  apolo- 
gized for  his  fault  to  Miss  Moore,  as  he  said  he 
would,  and  was  trying  to  grow  like  the  boy  he 
admired  so  much. 

He  brought  the  buttercups  to  Suzette  till  there 
were  no  more,  and  then  searched  the  woods  and 
fields  for  fresh  flowers.  He  found  the  lovely  are- 
thusa,  and  in  late  August  the  sabbatia.  This  is 
one  of  the  loveliest  flowers  to  be  found  in  the 
old  Pilgrim  town,  only  rivaled,  in  fact,  by  the 
exquisite  mayflower.  The  sabbatia  grows  in  wet 
places  by  the  side  of  ponds,  sometimes  encircling 
a  small  pond  with  a  fairy  ring  of  pink. 

Suzette  gave  a  little  shriek  of  delight  when  she 
saw  it.  It  lives  a  long  time  in  water  after  being 
cut,  and  a  bouquet  of  it  stood  in  little  Bess's  win- 
dow for  many  days,  the  small  green  buds  coming 
to  their  maturity  of  pink  splendor  in  the  shade  of 
the  honeysuckle. 

One  day  they  followed  the  town  brook  up  to 
its  source  in  Billington  Sea,  not,  however,  by 
riding  across  lots  and  jumping  fences,  as  Dick  had 
proposed,  but  by  the  established  road. 


ADVENTURE   OF  JOHN  BILLING  TON.       127 

This  "  sea  "  was  named  for  the  Francis  Billing- 
ton  who  came  so  near  blowing  up  the  Mayflower, 
and  is  a  small  lake.  One  day,  in  the  January  of 
1621,  Francis  climbed  a  tall  tree,  doubtless  after 
a  bird's  nest  of  some  sort,  a  crow's  or  a  hawk's, 
and,  putting  his  head  out  at  the  top,  he  saw  afar 
off  a  sheet  of  gleaming  blue  water.  Telling  what 
he  had  seen,  he  was  sent  with  one  of  the  men  to 
explore.  Armed  with  muskets,  and  making  their 
way  cautiously  through  the  wood  for  fear  of  In- 
dians, they  came  by-and-by  to  this  lake,  set  in 
thick  woods  alternating  with  open  grassy  gkdes, 
like  a  park. 

In  the  center  of  the  lake  was  a  lovely  island. 
They  might  have  seen  a  deer  come  down  to  drink, 
or  heard  the  cry  of  a  startled  loon,  or  seen  gently 
rising  above  the  trees  the  curling  smoke  from  a 
wigwam.  But  that  would  be  all  of  visible  life. 
To-day  it  is  the  haunt  of  picnickers,  and  the 
sweet  solitude  has  fled. 

Because  the  boy  Francis  was  really  the  dis- 
coverer, the  lake  was  named  for  him. 

It  was  in  telling  little  Bess  about  this  lake  that 
Suzette  told  her  the  story  of  how  John  Billington 
was  lost  and  found.  These  two  boys,  John  and 
Francis,  seem  to  have  been  a  stirring  pair  of  lads, 
with  a  genius  for  getting  into  scrapes. 


128         LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

Perhaps  they  inherited  this  genius  for  mischief 
from  their  father,  who  was  not  a  good  man.  He 
was  not  a  Pilgrim,  but  had  smuggled  himself  and 
two  boys  in  among  them.  The  very  first  year, 
for  some  offence,  he  was  sentenced  to  have  his 
neck  and  heels  tied  together,  a  severe  punish- 
ment which  soon  brought  a  culprit  to  terms. 

John  wandered  off  one  day  in  June  into  the 
woods.  What  he  was  after  history  does  not  tell 
us,  but  my  boy  reader  can  easily  imagine.  What 
does  take  a  boy  into  the  woods  on  a  June  day  ? 

It-  would  not  be  a  difficult  matter  now  to  get 
lost  in  Plymouth  woods,  and  when  John  Billington 
was  lost  in  them  they  must  have  been  even  more 
extensive  and  much  nearer  the  town.  He  wan- 
dered in  these  woods  for  five  days,  living  on  ber- 
ries and  what  else  he  could  find ;  strawberries, 
doubtless,  and  the  tender  leaves  of  the  "  box- 
berry  "  and  its  spicy  red  fruit,  and  sassafras, 
browsing  about  as  the  deer  did.  But  at  the  best 
his  fare  must  have  been  unsatisfactory  to  a  boy 
with  a  boy's  appetite,  and  it  must  have  been  with 
joy  that  he  finally  lighted  upon  an  Indian  planta- 
tion called  Manomet,  about  twenty  miles  south  of 
Plymouth.  These  Indians  did  not  keep  him,  how- 
ever, but  passed  him  on  to  Nauset,  further  down 


ADVENTURE    OF  JOHN  BILLING  TON.       129 

on  the  Cape  —  the  Indian  name  for  what  is  now 
Eastham. 

There  was  great  anxiety  at  Plymouth,  of  course, 
over  his  disappearance,  and  many  speculations 
as  to  what  had  become  of  him  —  whether  the 
Indians  had  got  him,  or  the  wolves  had  eaten  him, 
or  whether  he  had  tumbled  into  one  of  the  many 
ponds  and  been  drowned.  But  one  day  word 
came  that  he  v/as  alive  and  among  the  Indians, 
and  a  party  of  men  was  at  once  dispatched  in  the 
shallop  to  bring  him  home.  And,  as  usual,  they 
wrote  down  an  account  of  it,  beginning  in  this 

wise  :  — 

A 

VOYAGE   MADE   BY   TEN 

of  our  men  to  the  Kingdom  of 

Nauset  to  seeke  a  boy  that  had 

lost  himself  in  the  woods 

with  such  incidents  as 

befell  us  in  that 

VOYAGE. 

The  weather  was  fair  when  they  started,  but  a 
storm  of  rain  came  on,  with  lightning  and  great 
claps  of  thunder,  and  a  waterspout  formed  near 
them.  But  they  weathered  these  perils,  and  that 
night  put  into  the  harbor  of  Cummaquid  (Barn- 
stable).  They  had  taken  with  them  Squanto  and 


130         LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

another  Indian  named  Tokamahamon,  and  so,  the 
next  morning,  espying  some  Indians  catching 
lobsters,  they  sent  these  two  interpreters  to  tell 
them  who  they  were  and  to  ask  about  John. 

The  Indians  said  John  was  well  and  was  at 
Nauset,  and  politely  invited  the  Pilgrims  to  break- 
fast, which  invitation  they  accepted,  and  made  the 
acquaintance  of  the  sachem  lyanough,  a  young 
man  of  twenty-five,  gentle,  courteous,  and  "  fayre- 
conditioned,"  and  not  a  bit  like  a  savage,  they 
said,  only  in  his  "  attyre." 

The  breakfast  was  plentiful,  but  one  thing  dis- 
tressed them,  or,  as  they  said,  "  was  grievous  unto 
them."  While  they  were  eating,  an  old  woman 
a  hundred  years  old  came  to  see  them  because 
she  had  never  seen  any  English  before  But  the 
moment  her  eyes  fell  upon  them  she  burst  into 
a  great  passion  of  tears  and  cried  out  for  her 
three  sons,  whom  Hunt,  the  Englishman  who 
stole  Squanto,  had  carried  off  in  his  ship  and  sold 
as  slaves  in  Spain,  "thus  depriving  her  of  the 
comfort  of  her  children  in  her  old  age." 

"Poor,  poor  old  Indian  woman!"  said  little 
Bess  softly,  at  this  stage  in  the  story. 

Nauset  was  the  place  of  "The  First  Encoun- 
ter," so  when  the  ten  men  arrived  there  they  did 


ADVENTURE   OF  JOHN  BILLINGTON.       131 

not  venture  on  shore.  At  low  tide  the  Indians 
came  down  to  their  boat  in  great  numbers,  and 
among  them  was  Maramoick,  whose  pretty  corn 
they  took.  And  they  told  him  if  he  would  come 
to  Plymouth  they  would  pay  him  for  it,  or  they 
would  bring  the  pay  to  him ;  and  he  said  he 
would  come  to  Plymouth. 

It  is  an  interesting  fact  to  know,  and  here  as 
well  as  anywhere,  that  Plymouth  was  not  so  called 
first  by  the  Pilgrims,  but  had  received  its  name 
years  before  from  Charles  I  of  England.  The 
Pilgrims  did  not  see  fit  to  change  it,  but  re- 
tained the  name  partly  in  memory  of  Plymouth, 
England,  whence  the  Mayflower  had  sailed. 

But  of  all  these  Indians  they  permitted  only 
two  to  come  into  the  boat,  of  whom  they  again 
made  inquiries  concerning  John.  And  that  night, 
after  sunset,  their  sachem,  Aspinet,  came  with  a 
company  of  a  hundred  Indians,  one  of  them  carry- 
ing John  on  his  shoulder,  and  while  fifty  waited  on 
shore,  with  their  bows  and  arrows  in  readiness, 
the  other  fifty  waded  to  the  shallop  and  delivered 
him  up.  He  was  covered  with  beads,  and  was  in 
good  condition.  And  after  giving  Aspinet  a 
knife,  and  another  to  the  Indian  who  had  first 
entertained  John,  they  returned  to  Plymouth. 


132         LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

And  it  can  be  easily  imagined  how,  when  the 
shallop  sailed  up  the  brook  of  sweet  waters  to  her 
anchorage  — "  Only  just  a  little  way  from  here, 
little  Bess  ;  just  think  of  it !  "  said  Suzette  — •  the 
children  flocked  down  its  banks  to  welcome  him, 
and  what  a  hero  he  was  among  them  as  he  told 
his  adventures  and  plumed  himself  upon  them  ! 

"  And  oh,  I  should  like  to  have  been  there ! " 
said  Suzette,  as  usual ;  and  Dick  laughed. 

"Sue,"  he  said,  "if  you'd  have  been  every- 
where you  wish  to  be,  you  'd  be  a  thousand  years 
old." 

But  little  Bess  did  not  "wish."  She  could  hear 
about  the  loveliest  things  and  times  without  wish- 
ing to  possess  the  one  or  to  be  present  at  the 
other.  She  seemed  to  have  the  happy  gift  of 
content. 


CHAPTER  X. 

A    WET    EVENING. 

I  rose  up  with  the  cheerful  morn, 

No  lark  more  blithe,  no  flower  more  gay  ; 

And,  like  the  bird  that  haunts  the  thorn 
I  merrily  sang  the  livelong  day. 

—  Cumnor  Hall  Ballad. 

I  DO  trust,  brother,  that  nobody  will  come  for 
you  to-night."  Thus  spake  aunt  Penelope  as 
she  sat  in  the  chimney-corner  with  her  crocheting, 
a  soft,  white,  fleecy  heap,  that  quite  filled  her  lap 
and  foamed  over  down  the  side  of  her  gown. 

A  wood-fire  was  burning  cheerfully  in  the  big, 
old-fashioned  fire-place,  and  the  gas  not  yet  having 
been  lighted,  the  shadows  cast  therefrom  danced 
gayly  upon  the  parlor  walls. 

In  the  opposite  corner  sat  uncle  Tom,  leaning 
back  in  an  ample  easy-chair  of  sufficient  height  in 
the  back  for  his  head  to  rest  comfortably.  His 
legs  were  stretched  out  upon  the  broad  hearth  and 
rested  on  the  fender.  At  his  feet  lay  a  large 
white  cat,  Pickwick  by  name,  his  own  particular 
pet,  who,  having  rubbed  up  and  down  the  afore- 

133 


134        LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

said  pair  of  legs  and  purred  his  content,  had 
now  curled  himself  up  for  a  lengthy,  luxurious  nap. 

Dick  was  leaning  upon  the  back  of  aunt  Penel- 
ope's chair,  while  Suzette  lay  upon  the  rug  by  the 
side  of  Pickwick. 

"  It  is  such  a  rough  night,"  aunt  Pen  went  on, 
"  that  no  one  is  likely  to  venture  in,  and  I  have 
told  Mehitable  we  would  take  our  tea  here.  It  will 
be  so  cozy." 

"And  I  will  fetch  the  tables,  auntie,"  said 
Suzette,  springing  up.  And  she  forthwith  pro- 
ceeded to  remove  the  bric-a-brac  and  books  from 
two  small  tables,  one  of  which  she  placed  at  uncle 
Tom's  elbow  and  the  other  beside  aunt  Penelope. 

"  And  I  will  make  the  tea,  may  I  not  ?  "  she 
asked  eagerly.  "  I  know  how.  Mamma  has  taught 
me." 

"Yes,"  replied  aunt  Pen.  "Mehitable  shall 
bring  in  the  little  copper  tea-kettle,  and  you  shall 
make  tea  and  serve  uncle  Tom." 

"And  I  do  hope  'old  Mis'  Keziah  Holmes  up 
to  Manimet '  won't  be  taken  sick  to-night,"  said 
Dick. 

"I  trust  not,"  responded  uncle  Tom,  "nor  any- 
body else.  For  I  am  tired." 

Aunt  Pen  looked  up  anxiously.     "  Oh,  you  need 


A   WET  EVENING. 


135 


n't  be  alarmed,  Pen,"  said  uncle  Tom,  smiling 
affectionately  at  her.  "  A  man  and  a  doctor  may 
be  permitted  to  say  that  he  is  tired  once  or  twice 
a  year  without  being  looked  at  as  though  he 
showed  signs  of  typhoid  fever." 

"  But  it  is  so  unusual,  Tom,  for  you  to  confess 
to  being  tired,"  was  aunt  Pen's  reply. 

It  was  a  pretty  sight  to  look  at  — Suzette 
making  tea.  So  thought  uncle  Tom  as  he  lay 
back  lazily  in  his  chair,  watching  her  deft  fingers 
as  they  measured  out  the  tea,  poured  on  the 
boiling  water,  and  covered  up  tea  and  tea-pot  with 
the  cozy. 

A  storm  was  raging  without  from  the  east,  and 
the  rain,  driven  by  the  gale,  beat  fitfully  against 
the  window-panes,  while  the  great  lindens  moaned 
and  groaned  in  harmony  with  the  surf,  which  could 
be  heard  booming  on  the  beach. 

"  It 's  a  wild  night,"  said  uncle  Tom,  "  and  I 
hope  no  unfortunate  vessel  is  upon  our  shores." 

"  It  tastes  like  our  grandmother's  tea,"  he  said 
as  he  drained  his  cup.  "  Another  cup,  if  you 
please,  pussy.  Your  great-grandmother  had  a 
knack  at  cooking,  or  else  it  was  my  boy's  appe- 
tite, I  don't  know  which.  But  I  've  never  eaten 
any  shortcakes  like  hers.  And  her  pearlash  cakes 


136         LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

—  do  you  remember  them,  Pen  ?  Dear  old  grand- 
mother !  We  were  sometimes  a  sad  trial  to  her ;  " 
and  putting  down  his  third  empty  cup  uncle  Tom 
sank  into  a  reverie. 

"Tell  me  about  my  great-grandmother,  please, 
uncle  Tom,"  said  Suzette,  after  Mehitable  had 
taken  out  the  tea-things.  She  had  pulled  up  a 
hassock  beside  him  and,  seating  herself  upon  it, 
leaned  against  his  knee.  "  And  why  were  you  a 
trial,  you  and  aunt  Pen  ?  and  papa  —  was  papa  a 
trial  too  ?  " 

"  He  was  younger  than  Pen  and  I,  you  know, 
but  he  was  generally  with  us.  Do  you  remember 
that  time  we  camped  out,  Pen  ?  " 

Aunt  Pen  looked  up  from  her  crochet,  and 
smiled.  "  Don't  I !"  she  said. 

"  Oh,  tell  us  about  it !  "  entreated  Suzette.  "  It 's 
just  the  night  for  a  story.  When  we  have  a  great 
snow-storm  in  Colorado,  papa  always  talks  about 
Massachusetts  and  when  he  was  a  boy.  Oh,  I  do 
love  to  hear  about  when  papa  was  a  boy.  It  seems 
so  droll  that  he  should  ever  have  been  a  little  boy." 

"  You  know,  pussy,  that  our  grandmother  and 
your  great-grandmother  lived  in  Halifax.  It 's 
only  twelve  miles  from  here,  and  I  mean  you  shall 
go  up  there  and  see  the  old  place  some  day  before 


A   WET  EVENING.  137 

t 

you  go  back.  It 's  changed  a  good  deal,  but  still 
there  's  a  good  deal  left  as  it  was  when  I  was  a  boy. 
It  is  a  great  two-storied  farm-house  which  has  been 
added  to  from  time  to  time  in  the  past,  and  in  my 
grandfather's  day  there  were  no  end  of  farm-build- 
ings :  lower  barns,  as  they  were  called,  and  tool- 
house  and  carriage-houses  and  sheds,  granaries,  a 
great  piggery,  and  sheep  barns  with  low  racks  and 
mows  ;  and  then  the  upper  barns  and  stable  and  a 
cider-mill. 

"  To  us  children,  living  down  here  in  Plymouth, 
it  was  a  paradise.  We  used  to  go  there  often,  and 
one  summer,  when  the  scarlet  fever  broke  out  here 
in  Plymouth,  we  were  sent  up  for  the  summer,  and 
that  was  the  time  we  proved  such  a  trial. 

"There  was  a  deal  of  farm-work  always  going 
on,  and  we  had  no  end  of  fun  helping  plant  corn. 
Have  you  forgotten  the  rhyme,  Pen  ? 

One  for  the  blackbird, 

One  for  the  crow, 
Two  for  the  cut- worm, 

And  three  to  let  grow. 

And  in  every  fourth  hill  in  every  third  row  we 
dropped  a  fat  pumpkin  seed. 

"  We  rode  horse  to  plow,  and  sat  on  the  har- 


138         LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

row  —  a  dangerous  piece  of  business  that !  And 
then  when  haying  came,  we  helped  rake  up  and 
stowed  on  the  cart.  I  remember  one  day  the  cart 
tipped  and  the  hay  slipped  and  we  rolled  out.  Pen 
and  I  were  eleven  then."  (Uncle  Tom  and  aunt 
Pen  were  twins,  like  Dick  and  Suzette.)  "  Rich- 
ard was  only  seven.  But  he  generally  managed  to 
keep  up  with  us.  When  he  could  n't,  we  picked 
him  up  and  carried  him.  He  was  a  fat  little  fel- 
low and  a  tolerable  lift. 

"We  stayed  on  into  the  autumn,  and  used  to 
hang  around  the  saw-mill  a  good  deal.  It  was  a 
fascinating  place,  with  the  dam  and  great  water- 
wheel  and  all,  and  we  used  to  ride  on  the  log.  We 
grew  careless  at  last,  and  it 's  a  wonder  we  were 
not  sawed  in  two.  We  came  extraordinarily  near 
it  once  or  twice.  Our  grandmother  never  knew 
we  did  that.  We  kept  it  strictly  private,  as  we 
did  some  other  things.  Not  that  we  stood  so 
much  in  fear  of  her ;  only  we  knew  she  would 
disapprove  and  would  forbid  our  doing  it.  And, 
naughty  as  we  were,  we  were  not  quite  equal  to 
disobeying  outright.  So  as  we  wanted  to  do  it, 
we  thought  it  safer  not  to  tell  her. 

"  The  cider-making  came  on  in  September.  Our 
grandfather  had  a  number  of  great  apple  orchards, 


A   WET  EVENING. 


139 


and  single  apple-trees  were  scattered  about  his 
farm  of  a  thousand  acres,  so  he  made  a  great 
quantity  of  cider.  The  apples  were  put  into  a 
hopper  and  ground  by  two  horses,  merry-go- 
round  fashion,  and  were  then  squeezed  in  a  great 
press.  This  mass  of  apples  in  press  was  called 
'the  cheese.'  Fresh  cider  was  made  daily,  so  that 
barrels  of  it  were  standing  about  in  every  stage  of 
fermentation,  and  we  sucked  the  cider  from  these 
with  a  straw. 

"  Our  grandmother  made  real  cheeses,  too,  and 
we  always  came  in  for  the  '  rim '  when  they  were 
turned  in  the  press.  So  you  see  there  was  no  end 
of  pleasures,  to  say  nothing  of  the  cattle  and 
horses,  the  sheep  and  chickens  and  ducks. 

"  At  milking-time  we  used  to  hang  round  with 
our  mugs  and  the  men  would  fill  them  right  from 
the  cows.  And  very  delicious  that  milk  was,  eh, 
Pen  ?  The  nectar  of  the  gods,  and  no  mistake  ! 
I  remember  that  Pen,  who  always  wanted  to  know 
how  to  do  everything,  learned  to  milk,  and  so  she 
possesses  an  accomplishment  to-day  of  which  few 
of  her  countrywomen  can  boast. 

"  There  were  fields  of  blackberries  and  huckle- 
berries, and  it  was  during  an  expedition  for  picking 
berries  that  we  conceived  the  idea  of  camping  out. 


I4O         LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

"They  used  to  make  charcoal  in  Halifax,  and 
they  still  may  do  so,  for  aught  I  know,  and  our 
grandfather  had  his  pits  at  what  was  called  '  The 
Island,'  though  it  was  not  an  island.  It  was  a 
great  tract  of  wood  and  pasture  lands  lying  on 
Monponsett  pond.  These  pits  were  made  of  wood, 
piled  up  in  cone  shape  and  covered  in  with  turf. 
They  were  set  on  fire,  and,  if  properly  tended,  the 
wood  burned  slowly  and  became  completely 
charred. 

"The  men  who  tended  these  pits  day  and  night 
built  for  themselves  small  '  cabins,'  so  called,  as  a 
shelter  from  storms  and  a  place  to  sleep  in.  They 
were  made  of  boards  and  looked  like  small,  sharp 
roofs  set  on  the  ground.  There  was  a  rude  fire- 
place of  stones  at  one  end,  and  the  smoke  of  their 
fire  found  its  way  out  as  it  could,  there  being  no 
chimney.  The  pits  were  fired  in  a  new  place 
every  year. 

"  On  that  day  I  spoke  of,  when  we  went  berry- 
ing, we  came  out  into  an  open,  pretty  place  just 
by  the  pond  where  the  pits  had  been  the  year  be- 
fore. Over  the  black  circles  they  had  left  the 
grass  was  growing  green  and  thick.  The  cabin 
was  still  in  good  order,  for  we  went  in  and  built  a 
fire  and  toasted  the  cheese  we  had  brought  for 


A   WET  EVENING.  141 

lunch.  Grandmother  was  with  us  and  one  of  the 
farm-boys,  for  it  was  a  regular  berrying  party. 
There  was  a  narrow  beach  just  by  the  opening, 
and  the  water  was  shallow. 

"  And  it  was  after  we  got  back  that  night  that 
Pen  and  I  said  how  much  we  would  like  to  go 
down  there  and  camp  out  and  catch  fish  to  eat  and 
pick  berries.  We  should  n't  want  much  else,  we 
thought.  We  talked  it  all  over  in  one  of  those 
cozy  cubby-holes,  the  small,  irregular  openings  be- 
tween the  piles  of  freshly  sawn  boards  and  planks 
that  lined  the  lane  leading  to  our  grandfather's 
house.  These  were  favorite  resorts  where  we 
talked  over  things. 

"  I  am  afraid  we  were  uncommonly  thoughtless, 
for,  in  all  our  plans,  it  never  seemed  to  occur  to  us 
that  we  might  cause  a  great  deal  of  anxiety  by  our 
unexplained  disappearance.  And  yet  we  must 
have  been  conscious  we  were  not  doing  right,  by 
our  keeping  the  matter  so  close.  We  were  careful 
not  to  speak  of  it  except  in  low  tones  and  in  se- 
cret places.  We  had  always  been  exceedingly 
fond  of  Robinson  Crusoe,  as  most  children  are, 
and  completely  fascinated  with  the  details  of  his 
life  on  the  island,  and  longed  to  go  and  do  some- 
thing like  it," 


142        LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

Here  Suzette  looked  up  and  smiled  with  a  syn> 
pathetic  comprehension  of  the  feelings  of  the  boy 
Tom  and  the  girl  Penelope. 

"Oh,  I  understand  that,  uncle  Tom,"  she  said. 
"  Dick  and  I  have  planned  many,  many  times  what 
we  would  do  if  we  were  cast  on  an  uninhabited 
island,  and  had  to  take  care  of  ourselves." 

"  So  we  planned  that  we  'd  go  to  the  cabin  and 
camp  out,  and  little  Dick  was  to  go  too,  of  course. 
He  knew  all  about  it,  for  he  had  heard  us  talk,  but 
he  kept  the  secret,  for  he  was  a  loyal  little  fellow, . 
and  would  never  have  thought  of  telling  anything 
we  told  him  not  to,  and  he  considered  everything 
we  did  was  always  just  right. 

"We  planned  to  go  on  a  particular  day  just  at 
night,  and  we  saved  up  our  lunch  to  take  with  us 
till  we  could  catch  some  fish.  We  could  have 
helped  ourselves  to  anything  we  liked,  for  both 
pantries  were  always  open  to  us.  But  we  had 
some  queer  ideas  about  what  it  was  right  to  do, 
not  reflecting  that  the  whole  thing  was  wrong. 

"  We  did  take  a  tin  pail,  however,  to  put  our 
lunches  in,  which  we  secreted  in  one  of  the  cubby- 
holes in  the  boards  till  such  time  as  we  should 
start.  Pen,  with  housewifely  instinct,  bethought 
herself  that  we  should  want  something  to  put  over 


A  WET  EVENING.  143 

us  at  night,  and  we  secretly  appropriated  a  couple 
of  striped  red-and-blue  blankets  that  lay  upon  a 
shelf  in  the  closet  of  Pen's  room,  thinking  them 
more  homely  and  not  so  valuable  as  the  white 
blankets.  They  proved,  however,  to  be  an  heir- 
loom, having  been  spun  and  woven  by  our  great- 
great-grandmother,  and  consequently  greatly  cher- 
ished by  our  grandmother. 

"  These  we  rolled  up  into  as  small  a  bundle  as 
possible,  and  also  deposited  in  the  cubby-hole. 
And  then  we  were  ready,  fully  provisioned  and 
equipped,  for  I  was  to  take  my  fishing-line  in  order 
to  supply  our  family  larder,  and  we  considered  our 
pocket-knives  as  sufficient  cutlery.  Spoons,  plates, 
forks,  etc.,  we  spurned  as  altogether  superfluous 
in  camp  life.  Little  Dick,  however,  persisted  in 
taking  his  silver  drinking-cup,  from  which  he  had 
never  been  separated  since  his  christening  day. 
And  never  did  explorers  set  out  for  a  new  country 
equipped  with  a  finer  store  of  good  spirits  and  a 
smaller  kit  than  did  we  that  summer's  night  as 
we  slipped  furtively  from  out  the  remotest  of  the 
six  outside  doors  of  the  farm-house,  and  through 
the  orchard  behind  the  shelter  of  the  piles  of 
boards,  to  the  wooded  lane  leading  on  to  the 
island. 


144        LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

"  We  had  chosen  the  milking-time,  when  every- 
body on  the  place  was  busy,  the  men  at  the  milk- 
ing, our  grandfather  at  his  desk,  our  grandmother 
turning  the  cheeses,  and  Chatty  and  the  little 
housemaid  at  the  supper  which  they  were  prepar- 
ing for  us  all. 

"  We  hurried  along  the  first  mile,  not  speaking 
much,  Pen  carrying  the  tin  pail,  and  I  the  bundle 
of  blankets.  We  reached  the  end  of  the  lane  and 
started  across  lots,  taking  a  cattle  -  path.  The 
island  was  used  for  pasturing  large  herds  of  cattle 
and  flocks  of  sheep  in  the  summer,  and  in  moving 
from  place  to  place  and  going  to  the  pond  to 
drink,  they  had  made  well-trodden  paths. 

"  We  were  well  on  our  way,  and  were  crossing 
the  great  Ridge  Pasture,  which  was  nearly  a  quar- 
ter of  a  mile  in  length,  though  much  less  in  width, 
when  we  were  startled  by  a  roaring  sound,  and, 
turning,  we  saw  at  the  upper  end  of  the  pasture 
a  herd  of  cattle,  from  which  one  had  detached 
itself,  and  was  coming  toward  us  at  a  fast  trot, 
with  head  down,  and  sending  along  the  ground 
before  it  low  bellowings,  like  the  rumbling  of  nine- 
pin  balls. 

"  We  recognized  the  creature  at  once.  It  was 
our  grandfather's  great  Scotch  bull,  Wallace,  a 


A   WET  EVENING.  145 

formidable  beast,  black,  huge,  and  of  enormous 
strength.  Only  a  few  weeks  before  he  had  tossed 
into  the  air  one  of  the  men  in  the  milking-yard, 
who  had  only  been  saved  from  being  killed  by 
the  others,  who  beat  the  brute  off  with  their 
milking-stools.  Since  that  time  he  had  been 
put  to  pasture. 

"  Well,  we  were  three  rather  helpless  creatures 
at  just  that  moment,  and  had  it  not  been  that 
near  at  hand  grew  a  broad  and  low-branching  oak- 
tree,  it  had  been  all  over  with  us.  This  tree  had 
been  suffered  to  grow  in  the  center  of  the  field 
as  a  shade  for  the  cattle,  and,  seizing  little  Dick's 
hand,  I  cried  to  Pen,  '  Run,  run  for  the  tree  ! '  At 
the  same  time  I  dropped  the  bundle  and  Pen  the 
pail,  and  she  took  Dick's  other  hand  and  we  ran. 
How  we  did  run  !  Luckily  it  was  n't  far,  and  as 
soon  as  we  reached  it,  Pen  scrambled  up,  and  then 
I  lifted  Dick  and  she  pulled  him  up,  and  then  up 
I  went  myself,  and  double-quick,  too,  for  Black 
Wallace  was  close  upon  us,  and  I  was  barely  out 
of  his  reach  when  he  ran  his  big  head  right 
against  the  tree-trunk  with  such  force  the  whole 
tree  quivered  from  top  to  bottom.  But  we  held 
to  the  branches  and  were  safe. 

"  Of  course  he  was  in  a  towering  rage  at  his 


146        LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

failure  to  get  at  us,  and  tore  up  the  turf  with  his 
feet,  filling  the  air  all  about  him  with  gravel  and 
dirt,  and  walking  round  and  round  the  tree  bellow- 
ing fearfully.  He  kept  this  up  for  some  time  and 
then  betook  himself  to  where  our  tin  pail  and 
bundle  of  blankets  lay,  and  vented  his  rage  on 
them.  He  trampled  the  tin  pail  flat  and  tossed 
up  the  bundle  with  his  horns.  As  it  came  down, 
the  pins  with  which  we  had  fastened  it  gave  way 
and  the  blankets  fell  open.  The  red  in  them  en- 
raged him  still  more,  I  suppose,  for  he  tossed  and 
tore  them  with  his  horns  and  trampled  upon  them 
till  they  were  literally  nothing  but  rags  and  shreds. 
And  that  was  the  end  of  grandmother's  cherished 
heirlooms. 

"  By  this  time  the  sun  had  gone  down  and  dusk 
was  coming  on,  and  he  slowly  and  reluctantly 
withdrew,  returning  to  his  herd,  and  pretty  soon 
they  all  moved  off  to  their  quarters  for  the  night. 

"  We  did  not  venture  down,  however,  until  they 
had  disappeared,  and  when  we  did,  we  found  that 
we  were  quite  stiff  from  being  in  such  cramped 
positions  for  so  long.  Each  of  us,  as  we  learned 
afterwards  by  mutual  confession,  was  secretly  wish- 
ing to  go  home,  but  neither  liked  to  own  to  the 
feeling.  So  we  walked  on  slowly  the  remainder  of 


A    WET  EVENING,  147 

the  way  and  came  through  a  bit  of  woods  to  the 
open  space  where  the  cabin  stood.  By  the  time 
we  reached  it,  it  was  quite  dark. 

"  Dick  was  tired  out  and  began  to  cry  for  his 
milk.  He  had  stuck  to  his  little  silver  cup  all 
through,  but  there  was  nothing  to  put  in  it.  Black 
Wallace  had  spoiled  our  provisions.  It  was  too 
dark  to  fish  or  pick  berries.  I  would  have  kindled 
a  fire,  but  when  Pen  mentioned  it,  we  found  that 
we  had  entirely  forgotten  to  bring  any  matches ! 
Wretched  little  babes  in  the  woods  that  we  were ! 
There  was  nothing  for  it  but  to  make  the  best  of 
it  till  morning  came,  and  then  with  the  very  first 
gleam  of  daylight  we  would  go  home.  It  grew 
chilly,  and  Pen  took  Dick  into  her  lap  and  wrapped 
about  him  her  scanty  little  dress-skirt,  and  he  soon 
cried  himself  to  sleep." 

"  Poor  little  papa  !  "  interjected  Suzette  softly. 

"  After  he  had  fallen  asleep  and  we  were  sit- 
ting, feeling  about  as  forlorn  as  we  could,  all  at 
once  there  came  a  flash  of  lightning.  Now  aunt 
Pen,  when  she  was  a  girl,  was  rather  nervous 
about  thunder,  and  though  I  always  pooh-poohed 
at  her  fear  in  manly  fashion,  I  must  confess  that, 
big  boy  as  I  thought  myself,  the  prospect  of  a 
thunder-storm  under  the  circumstances  —  we  three 


148         LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

alone  in  that  open  cabin,  for  a  search  had  failed  to 
find  any  cover  for  the  space  that  served  as  a  door 
—  was  not,  to  say  the  least,  agreeable. 

"  But  there  we  were,  and  there  was  no  help  for 
it.  The  lightning  grew  more  and  more  vivid,  and 
the  thunder  pealed.  It  grew  intensely  dark  and 
we  crept  into  the  further  end  of  the  cabin  from 
the  door  and  crouched  down  close  together.  '  O 
Tom,'  said  Pen,  '  I  wish  we  never,  never  had 
thought  of  coming !  What  will  grandma  think 
has  become  of  us  ? '  And  then  for  the  first  time 
I  had  a  perception  of  the  distress  our  action 
might  cause  at  home. 

"  However,  as  I  said,  it  was  too  late.  Not  too 
late  to  repent,  which  I  did  most  bitterly,  but  too 
late  to  prevent  the  result  of  our  wrong-doing.  At 
last  the  rain  broke  and  came  down  in  torrents, 
and  trickled  through  the  openings  between  the 
boards  upon  us,  adding  to  our  discomfort.  We  did 
not  speak  again,  but  sat  close  together,  Pen  clasp- 
ing Dick  in  her  arms  and  I  with  my  arms  about 
Pen. 

"  By-and-by  the  storm  passed,  and  when  I  went 
and  looked  out  I  saw  stars.  At  that  moment, 
too,  I  heard  a  cracking  of  twigs  and  rustling  of 
branches  in  the  edge  of  the  wood,  as  though  some- 


A    WET  EVENING.  149 

thing  or  somebody  were  moving  there.  Was  it 
Black  Wallace  ?  Perhaps  he  knew  of  this  cabin 
and  was  coming  here  for  shelter.  Or  it  might  be 
a  troop  of  other  cattle,  or  a  tramp.  I  stood 
breathless  with  my  eyes  fixed  in  that  direction, 
not  daring  to  speak,  and  not  wanting  to  tell  Pen, 
who  still  sat  on  the  ground  with  Dick  in  her  arms. 

"  I  heard  the  sound  again  nearer  and  more  con- 
tinuous, and  I  knew  it  was  n't  the  tread  of  cattle. 
Presently  a  man  stepped  out  from  the  shade  of 
the  wood  and  advanced  towards  the  cabin.  I  drew 
back  and  he  looked  in. 

"  '  Child'en,'  he  said,  '  be  you  here  ? '  and  I 
recognized  the  voice  of  Ephraim,  our  grandfather's 
head  man. 

"  Pen  and  I  both  answered,  '  Oh,  yes,  we  're 
here,  Ephraim,  and  do  take  us  home.' 

"  '  And  little  Dick  ? '  he  asked  in  anxious  tones. 

"  '  He  's  here  all  right,"  answered  Pen.  '  He  's 
fast  asleep,  but  I  'm  afraid  he  's  cold.' 

"Ephraim  took  him  from  Pen's  arms  inside  his 
great-coat,  and  wrapped  it  round  him.  '  Come, 
child'en,'  he  said,  'the  wagon's  jest  out  here.' 
And  we  made  our  way  through  the  wet  under- 
brush, and  tumbled  in  as  best  we  could  in  our 
chilled  condition.  Ephraim  drove  with  Dick  still 


150         LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

in  his  arms,  and  a  little  further  on  we  picked  up 
Ben  Smith,  another  of  the  farm  men,  and  still 
further  on,  Sam,  and  then  Lew  Willis,  all  of  whom 
had  been  in  search  of  us. 

"  I  only  spoke  once  on  the  way  back,  and  that 
was  to  ask  Ephraim  how  he  happened  to  look  for 
us  at  the  cabin. 

"  '  Sam  said  he  heard  you  one  day  talkin'  in  the 
boards  about  campin'  out  in  the  cabin,  but  he 
did  n't  think  you  'd  be  such  fools  as  to  try  it,  an' 
so  he  never  thought  about  it  ag'in  till  you  war  n't 
to  be  found  to-day,'  said  Ephraim  succinctly. 

"  Fools !  yes,  that  was  exactly  what  we  were. 

"  Grandmother  was  at  the  end  door  when  we 
drove  into  the  yard.  She  took  little  Dick  from 
Ephraim,  and  looked  at  Pen  and  me.  She  did  n't 
say  a  word,  but  her  look  was  dreadfully  cutting. 
She  carried  Dick  into  her  own  room,  and  Chatty 
took  Pen  and  me  into  the  sitting-room,  and  put  us 
down  before  the  great  wood-fire,  and  pulled  off 
our  wet  shoes  and  stockings,  and  rubbed  our  feet, 
and  administered  hot  ginger-tea,  and  then  gave  us 
a  nice  hot  supper,  we  feeling  very  unworthy  all 
the  time. 

"  Then  after  Dick  was  snugly  in  bed,  grand- 
mother came  for  us  and  saw  us  into  bed,  making 


A   WET  EVENING.  151 

us  comfortable  but  not  speaking,  only,  when  all 
was  done,  saying  '  Good-night '  gravely. 

"  But  next  morning  we  went  to  her  and  con- 
fessed our  naughtiness,  and  had  a  good  long  talk 
with  her.  She  was  a  good  grandmother,  Pen ; " 
and  uncle  Tom  looked  over  to  aunt  Penelope,  who 
looked  up  from  her  crocheting,  and  there  were 
tears  in  her  eyes. 

"  A  good  grandmother,"  repeated  uncle  Tom 
meditatively. 

They  sat  in  silence  for  a  few  moments,  and  then 
uncle  Tom  spoke  again. 

"  I  have  n't  quite  finished,  pussy,"  he  said. 
"There's  one  more  thing  you'll  like  to  hear. 
After  we  had  had  our  talk  with  grandmother,  she 
said  she  would  like  us  to  think  it  all  over  a  while; 
and  she  sent  me  to  one  unoccupied  room,  and  Pen 
to  another,  till  she  should  call  us,  and  locked  the 
doors  of  both  rooms. 

"  Poor  little  Dick,  who  was  feeling  that  some- 
thing was  wrong,  he  did  not  know  what,  always, 
as  I  said,  placing  implicit  faith  in  Pen  and  myself 
—  poor  little  Dick  felt  quite  forlorn  at  being  cut 
off  from  us  in  this  unaccustomed  manner,  and  — 

"  But  I  must  tell  you  of  a  peculiar  arrangement 
for  the  accommodation  of  cats  in  grandfather's 


152         LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

house,  before  I  can  go  on  satisfactorily.  At  the 
foot  of  one  of  the  back  stairs,  in  the  outer  wall, 
was  a  round,  smooth  cat-hole.  A  cat,  entering 
through  this,  could  proceed  on  up  the  stairs  and 
through  an  unfinished  apartment  over  an  exten- 
sion, and  through  a  second  cat-hole  into  a  bed- 
room, and  through  a  third,  and  a  fourth,  and  a 
fifth,  and  so  on,  until  her  journey  ended  in  the 
attic,  which,  it  was  said,  was  once  used  as  a  gran- 
ary in  my  great-grandfather's  day.  It  was  con- 
sidered essential,  in  order  to  take  care  of  the  rats 
and  mice  that  foraged  on  this  corn  day  and  night, 
that  the  family  cats  should  have  access  to  it  at  all 
hours.  Hence  these  cat-holes. 

"  Well,  while  Pen  was  sitting  in  the  room  to 
which  our  grandmother  had  consigned  her,  and 
feeling  not  in  the  cheerfulest  mood,  who  or  what 
should  enter  through  the  cat-hole  of  the  door  but 
old  Lady  Beautiful,  the  big  tortoise-shell  cat. 
Two  small  packages  were  tied  about  her  neck. 
Pen  knew  in  a  moment  what  they  meant :  that 
little  Dick,  grieving  his  heart  out  over  our  fancied 
disgrace  in  being  locked  up,  had  sent  these  by 
Lady  Beautiful  to  comfort  us.  She  took  off  and 
opened  one  package.  It  contained  a  small  seed- 
cake of  a  kind  of  which  little  Dick  was  very  fond, 


A   WET  EVENING.  153 

and  which  Chatty  always  kept  on  hand  for  him. 
So  she  sent  on  old  Lady  Beautiful  to  me  with  the 
remaining  package,  which  reached  me  promptly 
and  in  the  same  fashion. 

"  It  was  the  last  straw,  pussy,  and  it  broke 
the  camel's  back.  When  I  saw  that  little  seed- 
cake of  Dick's,  and  thought  into  what  peril  I  had 
brought  him  by  my  foolishness  and  wrong-doing, 
I  gave  in  and  cried  like  a  big  baby.  And  in  this 
condition  grandma  found  me,  and  comforted  me 
with  telling  me  that  she  was  sure  that  all  this 
experience,  wrong  and  bitter  as  it  was,  would  help 
make  a  man  of  me.  And  again  I  say,  dear  Pen, 
she  was  a  good  grandmother." 

Here  uncle  Tom's  story  ended,  and  for  a  few 
moments  no  one  spoke.  Aunt  Pen  had  dropped 
her  crochet  and  was  looking  over  at  him  with  eyes 
full  of  affection. 

The  great  logs  with  which  Jason  had  replen- 
ished the  fire  after  tea  had  burned  down  into  a 
glowing  bed  of  coals,  and  Suzette  was  gazing 
thoughtfully  into  their  depths  of  fiery  rose. 

The  rain  had  ceased  to  beat  against  the  window- 
panes  and  the  moaning  of  the  lindens  had  stilled. 
Dick,  who  had  risen  and  was  leaning  again  on  aunt 
Penelope's  chair,  softly  patted  her  brown  hair. 


154         LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

The  door  opened  and  Jason  put  in  his  head. 

"  Somebody  's  come  down  from  Manimet,"  he 
said.  "  Old  Mis'  Keziah  Holmes  is  took  bad  ag'in  ; 
awful  bad  this  time,  they  say." 

"All  right,"  said  uncle  Tom,  arousing  himself. 
"Harness  up  Queen  Bess." 

And  the  symposium  was  ended. 


CHAPTER    XL 
\ 

THE    LAWN-TENNIS    PARTY. 


Be  good,  sweet  maid,  and  let  who  will  be  clever; 
Do  noble  things,  not  dream  them,  all  day  long: 
And  so  make  life,  death,  and  that  vast  forever 

One  grand,  sweet  song. 

—  Charles  Kingsley. 

A  S  I  have  before  intimated,  Suzette  had  made 
•^~*-  other  acquaintances  in  Plymouth  than  little 
Bess.  The  town  was  full  of  summer  visitors  from 
all  sections  of  the  country,  and  there  had  been  a 
good  many  parties,  chiefly  of  the  lawn-tennis  kind. 
Just  before  the  fall  exodus  aunt  Penelope  said 
a  return  or  acknowledgment  of  those  courtesies 
must  be  made,  which  should  also  take  the  form 
of  a  lawn-tennis  party. 

Uncle  Tom  had  a  fine  tennis  court,  smoothly 
turfed,  for  lawn  tennis  was  a  game  he  particularly 
approved,  because  it  brought  out  the  girls,  who  in 
the  past,  he  said,  had  had  so  little  out-of-door  life 
permitted  them. 

"  When  I  was  a  boy,  a  girl  who  liked  ball  and 
boating,  and  birds'-nesting,  and  climbing  trees 

155 


156         LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

and  running,  was  called  a  'romp'  or  a  'torn-boy.' 
And  many  a  sensitive  girl  was  kept  back  from  the 
exercise  she  should  have  taken  in  order  to  keep 
her  in  proper  health,  from  dread  of  those  names 
being  applied  to  her.  Boarding-school  misses 
were  taken  out  to  walk  in  procession  in  pairs,  with 
a  teacher  put  in  at  intervals,  and  none  of  them 
ever  dreamed  of  breaking  ranks  to  climb  a  fence 
for  a  flower,  or  to  take  a  good  healthy  run.  The 
poor  ladies  who  had  them  in  charge  would  have 
been  aghast  at  such  indiscretions.  But,  luckily, 
my  mother  repudiated  all  such  notions  for  Pen, 
who  did  about  what  I  did,  and  consequently  she 
can  yet  do  her  ten  miles  walk  with  any  English- 
woman of  them  all." 

"They  thought  a  good  deal  of  their  complex- 
ions in  those  days,"  added  aunt  Pen,  "and  that 
the  only  way  to  have  a  fine  complexion  was  to 
keep  in  the  house  and  avoid  the  sun.  They  con- 
sidered the  greatest  enemy  to  a  fine  skin  to  be 
the  sun..  The  Mason  girls  used  to  come  to  school 
wearing  deep  sun-bonnets  and  thick  green  veils 
and  gloves,  besides  carrying  large  parasols.  They 
had  pallid,  pasty  skins  which  they  thought  fine." 

"There  is  nothing  that  will  give  one  a  clear, 
healthy  skin  like  plenty  of  out-of-door  exercise  — 


THE  LAWN-TENNIS  PARTY.  157 

that  and  good  food,"  declared  uncle  Tom.  "Pallid 
complexions  and  small  waists  ought  to  be  under 
an  eternal  ban.  When  croquet  first  came  in,  I 
was  thankful  that  at  last  American  girls  were 
going  to  have  a  little  of  the  right  kind  of  liberty ; 
liberty  to  exercise  and  grow  strong  and  healthy. 
And  girls  can't  play  lawn  tennis  with  any  success 
unless  they  wear  loose,  light  clothing." 

This  was  uncle  Tom's  little  lecture  delivered  at 
the  breakfast  table  to  an  audience  of  three,  and  was 
drawn  out  by  the  proposition,  made  by  aunt  Pen, 
that  on  the  following  Thursday  Dick  and  Suzette 
should  give  their  lawn-tennis  party.  Then  he  fin- 
ished his  coffee,  said  "  Good-morning,"  and  went 
off  on  his  rounds. 

Upon  aunt  Pen  and  Suzette  devolved  the  task, 
nay,  the  pleasure,  of  making  out  the  invitation  list. 
It  is  a  charming  thing  to  do,  especially  for  a  girl 
who,  like  Suzette,  is  fond  of  making  others  happy. 
To  have  it  in  one's  power  to  confer  happiness  — 
what  is  there  in  life  better  than  that  ?  They 
talked  over  each  name  and  aunt  Pen  wrote  them 
down.  They  had  already  a  goodly  number  when 
Suzette  suddenly  stopped. 

"  Aun  Pen,"  she  said,  "  I  wish  —  I  wish  " —  and 
then  paused  abruptly. 


158         LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

"  Well,  pussy,"  laughed  aunt  Pen,  adopting 
uncle  Tom's  pet  name,  "  what  formidable  wish  is 
it  which  you  hesitate  to  speak  ?  " 

"  O  aunt  Pen,  I  wish,  I  do  wish  little  Bess 
might  come."  Aunt  Pen  was  surprised,  and  she 
confessed  it.  "  Why,  pussy,  she  has  never  been 
out  of  the  little  gray  house  in  all  her  life ! " 

"  I  know  it,  auntie,  and  that 's  the  very  reason 
I  wish  she  could  come.  Think  how  pleased  she 
would  be  ! " 

"Too  much  so,  I  fear,"  replied  aunt  Pen  gently. 
"  Think  of  the  excitement  to  her  weak  nerves. 
Tom  has  always  counseled  quiet  for  her.  And 
this  would  be  such  an  overturning.  No,  I  don't 
believe  it  would  be  possible." 

"  But  can't  we  ask  uncle  Tom  ? "  persisted 
Suzette.  "  Perhaps  he  would  think  it  would  do 
her  good.  At  any  rate,  if  he  said  No  that  would 
settle  it,  and  I  should  not  feel  so  badly  not  to 
have  her." 

Aunt  Pen  acquiesced  in  this  suggestion,  and 
said  she  would  ask  uncle  Tom  herself,  after 
dinner. 

His  answer  surprised  her.  After  a  moment's 
thought  he  said,  "  Yes,  I  think  it  might  be  done. 
We  could  send  the  carriage,  and,  if  driven  slowly, 


THE  LAWN-TENNIS  PARTY. 


159 


it  would  not  distress  her.  Of  course  she  must 
come  in  her  frame." 

"  Oh,  yes,  the  bringing  her  could  be  managed, 
Tom.  What  I  was  doubtful  about  was  the  effect 
upon  her  of  so  much  excitement.  You  know 
you  have  always  said  that  excitement  was  bad  for 
her." 

"  That  is  true,  Pen,"  replied  uncle  Tom,  with  an 
added  gravity  of  tone  and  manner.  "  But  I  think 
now  it  makes  but  little  difference." 

"  Is  she  worse,  Tom  ?  " 

"  She  is  no  better.  I  asked  Payne  to  look  in 
upon  her  when  he  was  down  last  week.  He 
agrees  with  me  that  her  case  is  hopeless.  And 
the  disease,  if  disease  it  may  be  called,  that 
has  crippled  her  short  life,  is  making  rapid  pro- 
gress. Let  us  give  her  what  pleasure  we  can 
while  we  have  her." 

Suzette  herself  took  the  invitation  to  little 
Bess,  and  you  would  have  thought,  to  have  heard 
her  plans  about  how  she  should  come  and  what  she 
should  wear,  and  whereabouts  in  the  lawn-tennis 
court  she  should  be  placed  so  she  could  see  every- 
thing from  the  best  point  possible,  and  her  specu- 
lations as  to  what  she  would  think,  and,  still 
better,  as  to  what  she  would  say,  and  how  she 


I6O        LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

would  have  to  tell  it  all  over  to  her  doll-family 
the  next  day,  —  to  have  heard  all  this,  you  would 
have  thought  that  little  Bess  was  a  small  queen  for 
whose  sole  pleasure  this  show  called  a  lawn-tennis 
party  had  been  gotten  up,  and  that  the  other 
expected  guests  were  of  no  consequence  whatever. 
But  knowing  Suzette,  you  would  be  sure  that  she 
would  not  fail  in  courtesy  to  them  when  the  time 
came,  though  apparently  so  absorbed  in  little 
Bess. 

She  was  brought  up  on  the  morning  of  the  day. 
Uncle  Tom  went  himself  for  her,  lifted  her  in,  held 
her  all  the  way  in  his  arms,  and  carried  her  up 
to  his  own  room,  where  he  said  she  was  to  stay  in 
perfect  quiet  until  the  time  came  to  take  her  out 
to  the  lawn-tennis  court.  Suzette  could  stay  in 
the  room,  oh,  yes  !  for  little  Bess  must  not  be  left 
alone.  But  she  must  not  talk. 

"  Are  you  equal,  pussy,  to  sitting  still  a  couple 
of  hours  and  not  speaking  ?  " 

"  Indeed  I  am,  uncle  Tom.  I  would  n't  tire  her 
for  the  world.  But  is  n't  she  lovely  ?  "  This  was 
said  in  a  low  tone,  as  uncle  Tom  went  to  a  table 
and  took  up  a  bottle  from  which  he  proceeded  to 
pour  something  into  a  wine-glass. 

He    had  laid  her    down    upon  a    lounge,    from 


THE  LA  WN-  TENNIS  PAR  TY.  1 6  I 

whence  she  had  a  full  view  of  the  bay  and  the 
distant  horizon  line.  Well  as  he  knew  her  and 
all  about  her  life,  it  had  not  occurred  to  him  that 
she  had  never  seen  the  sea. 

Aunt  Pen  had  sent  down  a  loose  white  frock 
of  fine  wool  for  her  to  wear.  It  was  brightened 
about  the  throat  with  loops  of  pale -pink  ribbon, 
and  ribbon  of  a  similar  color  was  run  into  the  lace 
that  encircled  her  small  wrists.  The  unusual 
excitement  had  brought  a  soft  pink  flush  into  her 
cheeks  and  an  added  brilliancy  into  her  eyes. 
Her  face  habitually  wore  that  expression  of  sweet- 
ness —  a  little  unearthly  in  its  beauty  —  that  we 
so  often  see.  on  the  faces  of  those  who  have  borne 
the  burden  of  a  crippled  life,  and  as  she  lay  there 
gazing  intently  out  upon  the  sea,  and  entirely 
lost  to  all  other  sights,  she  was  indeed  lovely  in 
the  inmost  sense  of  that  word. 

Presently  she  looked  up.  "  Is  that  the  sea, 
Doctor  Tom  ?  Teddy  said  't  was  blue,  but  I  did  n't 
ever  think  't  was  like  that." 

It  was  a  summer  sea  of  that  bright  blue  which 
always  seems  more  of  heaven  than  of  earth,  as  it 
really  is,  for  it  owes  its  color  to  the  azure  depths 
above  it. 

"  Yes,   that  is  the  real  sea,   little    Bess.     And 


1 62         LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

you  shall  lie  there  and  look  at  it  as  long  as  you 
like,  only  just  drink  this  now.  You  '11  see  a  ship 
coming  presently.  Ah  !  there  's  one  now.  Watch 
it  as  it  sails  along."  And  watching  it  drift  by  afar 
off,  she  soon  drifted  into  a  gentle  and  refreshing 
slumber,  as  uncle  Tom  meant  she  should. 

Suzette  sat  quietly  by  the  window.  Dick  looked 
in  at  the  door,  but  was  warned  off  by  an  impressive 
shake  of  her  finger.  Mehitable  came  up,  teetered 
in  on  tiptoe  and  looked  at  little  Bess  sweetly 
sleeping.  "  Dear  little  creatur'  !  "  she  said  in  a 
hoarse  whisper,  and  teetered  out  again. 

When  she  awoke,  dinner  was  brought  to  her, 
and  uncle  Tom  fed  her  himself,  administering  the 
cooling  ice-cream  as  he  would  to  a  canary-bird. 

"  Open  your  beak,  little  bird,"  he  said.  "  I  'm 
the  mother-bird,  a  great  big  bearded  penguin. 
Did  you  ever  hear  about  penguins,  little  Bess  ? 
They  wear  black  coats  and  caps  and  white  waist- 
coats. And  when  they  stand  up  they  sit  down, 
like  the  Irishman's  toad,  you  know.  When  he 
stood  up  he  sat  down,  and  when  he  walked  he 
galloped.  There,  take  a  little  more.  It 's  nice 
and  cold.  That 's  the  reason  the  Irishman  did  n't 
like  ice-cream.  He  took  a  mouthful  and  roared 
out  loud,  it  was  so  '  hot '  he  said.  It  must  have 


THE  LAWN-TENNIS  PARTY.  163 

been  the  same  Irishman  who  thought  a  turtle  was 
a  snuff-box  on  legs.  They  don't  have  them  in 
Ireland,  it  seems.  But  I  don't  believe  you  know 
what  a  snuff-box  is,  my  little  one.  I  shall  have  to 
show  you  my  grandfather's.  It  is  a  pretty  silver 
box  and  will  do  for  stamps.  Perhaps  I  shall  give 
it  to  Suzette  for  a  keepsake,  if  she  only  keeps  on 
being  good.  But  I  expect  every  day  she  '11  do 
something  '  awfully  '  naughty,  as  Teddy  says." 

Little  Bess,  who  had  been  sipping  ice-cream 
and  smiling  while  Doctor  Tom  talked,  laughed  out 
gleefully  at  this.  As  if  Suzette,  who  was  a  sun- 
beam in  her  life,  warming  and  cheering  her,  could 
ever  be  otherwise  than  good  !  Though  the  fact 
is,  everybody  was  good  in  little  Bess's  estimation. 
She  knew  only  degrees  of  goodness,  nothing  of 
degrees  of  badness.  That  is  one  of  the  blessings 
attending  the  state  of  invalidism  —  such  helpless 
creatures  bring  out  the  good  in  those  about  them. 

But  the  beautiful  declaration  of  the  apostle  that 
"one  star  differeth  from  another  star  in  glory," 
was  true  of  little  Bess's  firmament.  While  all 
were  good,  the  goodness  of  some  penetrated 
more  deeply  into  her  heart,  and  Suzette  was  one 
of  these.  Little  Bess  agreed  with  Teddy  that  no- 
where in  the  wide  world  could  there  be  another 


1 64  LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

like  her.  She  was  unique  in  their  world,  of  that 
they  were  sure. 

"  I  like  strawberry  ice-cream  ;  it  tastes  nice,  an' 
it 's  so  pretty.  It  's  like  the  ribbons  Miss  Pen  sent 
me.  An'  ain't  this  a  pretty  gown  ?  My  mother 
said  I  looked  like  one  of  Mis'  Brewer's  lilies." 

"  There,  here  's  the  last,  my  little  bird  ;  "  and  he 
put  down  the  ice-cream  saucer.  "  But  I  entirely 
forgot  to  ask  after  Squawleena,  which  is  quite 
shameful  in  a  doctor.  How  is  she  and  her  poor 
mother?" 

"  Poorly,  very  poorly,"  answered  little  Bess 
gravely.  "  Squawleena  is  a  dre'tful  trial  to  her." 

"  Well,  well,  we  must  get  Queen  Victory  to  do 
something.  Queens  can  shut  up  naughty  folks, 
you  know." 

"  Then  I  '11  tell  Squawleena,  an'  p'r'aps  it  will 
do  her  good." 

Just  before  the  hour  set  for  the  arrival  of  the 
guests  little  Bess  was  carried  out  to  the  lawn- 
tennis  court  and  laid  in  a  hammock  carefully  hung 
by  Doctor  Tom  himself  under  the  shade  of  an 
awning. 

He  had  been  called  away,  and  had  instructed 
Jason  how  to  carry  her  out  and  lay  her  therein 
with  the  least  discomfort  to  her. 


THE  LAWN-TENNIS  PARTY.  165 

Little  Bess  knew  and  loved  Jason.  He  often 
looked  in  at  the  small  gray  house  and  brought  her 
tid-bits  sent  by  Mehitable.  For  Doctor  Tom  had 
more  than  one  pensioner  to  whom  Mehitable  was 
not  only  at  liberty  to  send  any  delicacy  she  thought 
best,  but  had  been  desired  by  him  to  do  so. 

Mehitable  was  never  "  ordered "  to  do  things. 
Both  uncle  Tom  and  aunt  Pen  would  have  as  soon 
thought  of  cutting  off  their  right  hands  .as  order- 
ing either  Jason  or  Mehitable,  those  faithful 
friends  as  well  as  servitors.  The  learned  and 
scholarly  Neander  used  to  say  to  his  serving- 
man,  "  If  you  please,  dear  Carl ; "  and  I  always 
think  of  him  whenever  I  hear  uncle  Tom  address 
Mehitable  or  Jason  —  for  I  am  acquainted  with 
Doctor  Tom. 

The  hammock  was  half-filled  with  gay-colored 
rugs  and  afghans,  and  upon  these  little  Bess  was 
laid.  The  afghans  were  folded  about  her  so  as  to 
conceal  the  wooden  frame,  and  as  she  lay  there  in 
her  white  gown  she  did  indeed  look,  as  her  poor 
mother  had  said,  like  a  fair  and  sweet  lily  reposing 
upon  a  bed  of  more  brilliant  but  less  lovely  flowers. 

The  guests  were  received  by  aunt  Pen  and  Su- 
zette  in  the  lawn-tennis  court,  and  of  course  none 
of  them  failed  to  perceive  at  once  the  unusual  ad- 


I  66         LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

dition.  Little  Bess  lay  at  the  upper  end  of  the 
court  near  a  small  linden,  under  which  stood  a  table 
with  ice-water  and  lemonade  for  the  refreshment 
of  the  players. 

"  What  a  lovely  creature  !  Who  is  she  ?  Your 
sister  ? "  eagerly  asked  Esther  Morton,  a  Philadel- 
phia girl  whom  Suzette  particularly  liked. 

A  word  sufficed  to  tell  her  of  little  Bess's  help- 
less condition,  and  that  she  was  not  Suzette' s 
sister. 

"  Oh,  can't  she  walk  ?  Poor,  poor  child  !  "  ex- 
claimed Esther.  "  Do  introduce  me  to  her.  I 
should  so  like  to  speak  to  her."  And  the  two 
walked  off  together,  while  Sybil  Smythe,  turning 
to  her  neighbor  for  the  moment,  who  was  also  her 
particular  crony,  said  in  a  tone  of  deep  disgust  :  — 

"  Did  you  ever  see  anything  like  that  ?  Intro- 
ducing Esther  Morton  to  that  child  !  Why,  her 
mother  is  a  washerwoman  and  scrubs  our  floors ! " 

Her  tone  was  low,  however,  for  Miss  Penelope 
was  not  far  away,  and  it  would  never  do  —  in  Sy- 
bil's estimation  as  well  as  in  that  of  her  mother  — 
to  offend  the  Watermans,  who  were  not  only  of  a 
good  old  family,  but  were  also  rich.  Richard  Wat- 
erman was  reported  to  be  enormously  wealthy,  a 
large  fortune  having  come  to  his  wife  from  France. 


THE  LAWN-TENNIS  PARTY.  l6j 

As  for  Esther  Morton's  father,  he  was  a  money 
prince.  No,  clearly  it  would  never  do  to  offend 
either  Suzette  or  Esther.  The  right  thing,  there- 
fore, was  to  follow  Esther's  example  and  be 
introduced. 

"  Little  Bess,"  said  Suzette,  as  she  and  Esther 
came  up  to  the  hammock,  "my  friend,  Esther 
Morton,  wishes  to  know  you." 

Esther  had  a  particularly  winsome  smile,  and  as 
she  held  out  her  hand  and  said  in  caressing  tones, 
"  Is  n't  it  beautiful  out  here  ?  I  am  so  glad  you 
could  come,"  little  Bess  responded  with  her  sun- 
niest smile. 

"  Yes,  it 's  lovely,"  she  said,  "  an'  't  was  so  good 
of  Doctor  Tom  an'  Miss  Pen  to  let  me  come.  I 
never  see  the  sea  before,  an'  I  never  see  the  lawn 
tennis.  Teddy 's  told  me  about  it.  About  the 
nets  an'  chasin'  the  balls,  an'  the  pretty  dresses. 
But  they  're  prettier  than  I  thought,"  she  said, 
looking  at  Esther's  blue-and-white  tennis  suit. 

Esther  patted  the  little  hand  which  she  contin- 
ued to  hold. 

"  And  who  is  Teddy  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Oh,  he  's  Mis'  White's  boy,"  responded  little 
Bess.  "  He  lives  with  her  an'  does  chores  for 
folks.  But  she  ain't  good  to  him,  my  mother  says. 


1 68         LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

My  mother  an'  Mis'  White  go  out  to  work  together 
an'  she  's  cross,  my  mother  says.  But  Teddy  's 
good.  He  's  real  good  to  me.  He  's  a  nice  boy." 

Here  was  a  revelation  to  be  made  to  the  daugh- 
ter of  a  money  prince,  thought  Sybil  Smythe,  who 
came  up  at  that  moment.  And  she  looked  to  see 
how  Esther  would  take  it.  But  Esther  was  evi- 
dently not  disturbed  by  the  knowledge  that  little 
Bess's  mother  went  out  to  work.  She  still  con- 
tinued to  pat  the  little  hand  she  held,  softly,  and 
smiled  into  the  uplifted  face. 

"  I  should  like  to  see  Teddy,"  she  said.  "  Is  he 
here  this  afternoon  ?  " 

"No,"  replied  little  Bess,  and  a  slightly  troubled 
look  came  into  her  eyes.  "  He  said  he  wa'  n't  fit 
to  come,  an'  his  clo'es  wa'  n't  fit.  But  he  's  nice, 
Teddy  is  ever  so  nice.  He 's  good  to  me,  an' 
Archibald  Yell,  an'  ev'rybody." 

"Yes,"  said  Suzette,  "Teddy  is  a  nice  boy. 
He's  the  nicest  boy  I  know." 

And  little  Bess  smiled  gratefully  and  held  out 
her  other  hand  to  her. 

Then  Sybil,  concealing  her  disgust  as  well 
as  she  could  at  being  obliged  to  submit  to  the 
humiliation  of  being  introduced  on  equal  terms  to 
the  child  of  her  mother's  washerwoman,  said  :  — 

"  Please  introduce  me,  Suzette." 


THE  LAWN-TENNIS  PARTY.  169 

Now  Suzette  was  a  perfectly  well-bred  girl,  as  I 
need  not  remind  the  reader  of  this  book.  She  did, 
however,  long  to  say  —  having  learned  to  know 
Sybil  and  her  little  airs  of  superior  social  position 
—  that  she  should  have  supposed  that  having  lived 
all  their  lives  in  the  same  town  they  would  have 
been  acquainted ;  that  having  known,  as  she  must, 
of  the  existence  of  this  helpless  little  creature,  she 
would  have  tried  to  lighten  her  burden.  But  she 
did  not  say  it.  She  only  said  courteously  :  — 

"  This  is  Miss  Smythe,  little  Bess." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  replied  little  Bess,  smiling  at  Sybil, 
though  not  exactly  with  the  same  beaming  cordial- 
ity as  at  Esther  and  Suzette.  "  Oh,  yes,  I  've 
heard  of  you.  My  mother  washes  up  at  your 
house.  An'  she  says  you  have  such  beautiful 
things  !  An'  you  play  on  the  piano  so  nice !  She 
says  it 's  like  the  birds  singin'.  It  must  be  beau- 
tiful to  make  music  like  the  birds  do.  Teddy  can 
whistle  '  Sweet  Violets  '  an'  '  John  Brown's  Body,' 
but  my  mother  says  it  ain't  so  nice  as  your  music." 
And  Sybil  for  the  moment  was  ashamed  of  herself 
and  her  snobbery. 

Meanwhile  the  guests  continued  to  arrive,  and, 
after  greeting  aunt  Pen,  they  made  their  way  to 
where  Suzette  was  standing  beside  little  Bess's 


170         LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

hammock,  and  one  after  the  other  was  introduced 
to  her,  the  boys  courteously  bending  over  her  little 
hand,  and  the  girls  smiling  cordially  upon  her. 
A  large  proportion  of  them  were  strangers,  and 
many  asked  the  same  question  Esther  had  done : 
"  Is  she  your  sister  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no !  she  ain't  my  sister,"  said  little  Bess, 
catching  the  question.  "  But  she  's  good  to  me 
an'  I  love  her  dearly.  She  comes  to  see  me  ev'ry 
day.  She  invited  me  to  come.  She  said  I  'd  like 
it ;  an'  it 's  beautiful." 

They  grouped  themselves  about  her.  She  did 
not  talk  much,  but  lay  and  looked  smilingly  from 
one  to  another,  listening  to  their  bright  talk  ;  and 
it  was  like  a  little  court,  herself  the  center  and 
queen.  For,  as  they  talked,  they  would  turn  to 
her  with  a  word  or  a  smile,  the  boys  with  their 
frank  faces  full  of  sympathy  for  her  helplessness, 
and  eager  to  do  or  say  something  to  give  her 
pleasure  ;  the  girls  smiling  and  patting  her  now 
and  then,  and  speaking  cordially  with  a  touch  of 
tender  sympathy  in  their  tones. 

It  was  good  for  them  as  it  was  for  her.  Many 
a  young  heart  learned  a  right  noble  lesson  that 
summer's  afternoon. 

"  She  is  such  a  loyal  little  soul !  "  said  Esther  to 


THE  LAWN-TENNIS  PARTY.  171 

Suzette,  as  they  moved  away.  "  And  so  perfectly 
well-bred ! " 

Sybil  heard  the  remark  and  wondered.  How 
was  it  possible  for  the  child  of  a  washerwoman  to 
be  well-bred  ?  She  had  been  taught  that  money 
and  birth  of  a  certain  kind  alone  constituted  a 
claim  to  good  breeding.  She  could  understand 
that  a  descendant  of  Governor  Carver  (!)  might 
lay  claim  to  that  distinction.  But  the  daughter  of 
a  washerwoman !  Such  an  idea  was  contrary  to 
all  her  teachings,  and,  on  the  whole,  the  afternoon 
to  her  was  not  an  agreeable  one. 

The  game  began,  and  little  Bess's  interest  deep- 
ened. The  rapid  movement,  the  flight  of  the 
balls,  the  pretty  lawn-tennis  suits,  the  picturesque 
groupings,  all  against  the  background  of  green 
lawn  and  blue  sea,  made  up  a  most  animated 
scene,  which  she  fully  appreciated. 

They  understood  her  ignorance  of  the  game, 
and  were  continually  coming  up  as  they  had  a 
chance,  both  boys  and  girls,  to  explain  it  to  her. 
Soon  she  had  a  fair  knowledge  of  it  and  could 
laugh  and  applaud  with  her  small  hands  when 
a  good  stroke  was  *nade. 

And  there,  over  the  sea,  six  miles  away,  were 
the  two  white  lighthouses,  and,  nearer  at  hand,  the 


172 


LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 


white  line  of  the  beach,  with  its  red  pavilion,  and 
Clark's  Island,  and,  across  the  bay,  Captain's  Hill, 
with  its  monument,  all  which  Dick  and  Suzette 
pointed  out  to  her. 

She  was  eager  to  know  where  it  was  the  May- 
flower came  in,  for  she  had  learned  much  concern- 
ing it  and  its  passengers  since  the  coming  of  these 
two,  and  had  quite  an  intelligent  notion  of  the  Pil- 


grims —  more,  I    am   sorry  to  say,  than  many  of 
the  players  on  the  lawn-tennis  ground. 

"  That 's  where  they  stayed  the  first  Sunday," 
she  explained  to  a  sturdy  young  fellow  from  De- 
troit, pointing  with  her  small  hand  to  Clark's 
Island.  "  It  was  cold  an'  snowy  an'  they  had  n't 
any  house  to  stay  in,  only  a  little  boat,  though  I 
'spect  they  made  a  fire  out-o'-doors.  An'  they 
wanted  to  find  a  place  to  settle  quick.  But  they 
wouldn't  sail  'cause  'twas  Sunday.  An'  they 
preached  an'  sung.  They  mlways  kep'  Sunday 
very,  very  strict,  you  know."  Which  the  sturdy 
young  fellow  did  not  know  at  all,  but  inwardly 


THE  LAWN-TENNIS  PARTY.  173 

vowed  he  would,  and  a  good  deal  more,  as  soon  as 
he  could  get  hold  of  a  book  about  the  Pilgrims. 

"  She  made  me  feel  quite  ashamed  of  myself  not 
to  know,  and  she  such  a  helpless  little  thing,"  he 
said  to  Suzette,  as  they  stood  side  by  side  in  the 
game.  "  I  've  been  here  a  month,  but  I  've  been 
fishing  and  playing  ball  and  lawn  tennis  and 
have  n't  learned  a  thing  about  the  Pilgrims.  I 
thought  the  rock  and  Pilgrim  Hall  and  all  that  an 
awful  bore.  But  I  wish  now  I  knew  something 
about  them." 

"  It  makes  Plymouth  so  much  more  interesting," 
said  Suzette  eagerly,  "  so  different  from  other 
towns.  But  my  father  has  told  us  so  much,  and 
we  've  read  so  much  about  it,  that  when  we  were 
coming  it  was  like  coming  to  King  Arthur's  land 
or  the  home  of  the  Greek  heroes.  And  Dick  and 
I  have  been  everywhere  and  seen  everything  about 
the  Pilgrims." 

"  I  shall  be  here  about  ten  days  longer,  and  if 
you  would  be  so  good  as  to  tell  me  something  and 
—  say,  can't  you  and  Dick  take  me  round  ?  I  've 
got  a  horse,  you  know.  And  it  would  be  awfully 
good  of  you."  , 

At  five  came  the  tea.  Mehitable  and  Jason 
brought  out  the  tables  and  tea  and  cups,  and  aunt 


174        LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

Pen  and  Suzette  poured  it,  and  there  was  thin 
bread  and  butter  and  the  Waterman  pound  cakes. 
Then  followed  more  talk,  during  which  the  sturdy 
young  lad  from  Detroit,  Russell  Maybie,  by  name, 
made  an  arrangement,  subject  to  aunt  Pen's 
approval,  for  extensive  researches  into  Pilgrim 
land. 

Presently  they  all  said  their  good-bys. 

"May  I  come  and  see  you,  little  Bess?"  asked 
Esther,  as  she  took  her  hand  at  parting. 

"  It  will  be  so  nice  of  you,"  was  the  reply. 
"An'  oh,  how  lovely  it  has  all  been  !"  she  said  to 
Suzette.  "  I  shall  have  sights  an'  sights  to  tell 
my  fam'ly." 


CHAPTER   XII. 

LITTLE   BESS   TELLS   THE    STORY. 

The  world  is  so  full  of  a  number  of  things, 
I'm  sure  we  should  all  be  as  happy  as  kings. 

—  Robert  Louis  Stevenson. 

T  ITTLE  BESS  was  up  betimes  the  next 
* — '  morning,  and  before  her  mother  went  out 
to  her  day's  work,  she  placed  the  dolls  in  a  row 
on  the  table  before  her,  arranging  them  according 
to  their  size,  beginning  with  the  emaciated  Ara- 
bella, and  ending  with  the  huge  bulk  of  Marietta 
Tintoretta. 

Little  Bess  looked  at  them,  her  eyes  bright  with 
anticipation  of  the  pleasure  she  was  about  to  con- 
fer in  telling  them  all  about  the  lawn-tennis  party. 

She  then  raised  an  admonitory  finger  and  began  : 
"  Now,  look  straight  at  me,  like  good  childrens, 
an'  don't  'terrupt.  'T  is  very  rude  to  'terrupt.  If 
you  want  to  speak,  you  must  raise  your  hands. 
That  's  what  Teddy  says  the  childrens  do  t'  school. 
An'  Squawleena,  Doctor  Tom  says  if  you  are 
naughty  Queen  Victory  can  put  you  into  p'ison. 

175 


176         LITTLE  BESS   TELLS   THE  STORY. 

Queens  can  put  folks  into  p'ison,  he  says,  the 
great  big  p'ison  Teddy  has  told  me  about.  It 
has  bars  all  over  the  windows  'stead  of  honey- 
suckles, and  they  shut  bad  folks  up  in  it.  An'  so 
you  must  be  good,  for  I  should  hate  to  have  one  of 
my  fam'ly  be  took  to  p'ison." 

Here  a  saucy  gust  of  wind,  entering  through  the 
honeysuckle-shaded  window,  struck  Squawleena, 
who,  being  hollow  and  rather  weak  as  to  base, 
toppled  over  and  fell  flat  on  her  face.  Little 
Bess  took  this  prostration  as  a  voluntary  act  of 
humiliation  on  Squawleena's  part  and  as  involving 
a  promise  to  do  better. 

"  Yes,  I  know  you  '11  try,  Squawleena.  An'  I 
wish  I  could  pick  you  up,  but  I  can't,  you  know. 
But  we  '11  play  you  're  up. 

"  Oh,  it  was  beautiful  ridin'  in  the  carriage,  chil- 
drens.  Doctor  Tom  carried  me  just  as  nice,  an' 
he  lifted  me  up  and  said,  '  Look  out  of  the  window, 
little  Bess,  an'  see  Plymouth  Rock  where  the  Pil- 
grims landed.'  An'  I  looked  out  of  the  window, 
and  Doctor  Tom  said,  'Stop  the  carriage.'  An'  I 
looked  an'  see  a  little  stone  house  all  open,  an' 
it  had  n't  any  windows,  only  gates  all  open-work 
like  Mis'  Brewer's  lace.  An'  in  it  was  a  big  gray 
stone,  an'  Doctor  Tom  said  that  was  the  rock,  an' 


LITTLE  BESS    TELLS    THE   STORY. 


177 


he  said  the  little  stone  house  was  a  mon-u-ment. 
It  is  a  hard  word,  but  Doctor  Tom  said  it  over 
till  I  learned  it.  An'  you  must  say  it  over  too." 

Little  Bess  paused  until  each  doll  in  her  turn 
was  supposed  to  have  said  mon-u-ment. 

"  Oh,  I  'm  glad  I  Ve  seen  it  ! "  she  went  on. 
"Teddy  will  be  so  pleased.  He's  told  me  lots 
about  the  mon-u-ment,  and  how  folks  come  to  see 
it.  An'  Doctor  Tom  said  all  the  little  childrens 
that  come  in  the  Mayflower 
stepped  on  the  rock  first  § 
'cause  it  was  in  the  water 
close  to  the  land.  An'  so 
the  boat  come  right  up  to 
it,  an'  they  stepped  out  on 
the  rock,  an'  then  on  the 
sand.  An'  I  asked  if  he 
see  'em,  an'  he  said  they 
come  a  great  many  years  ago,  before  you  and  me 
was  born.  An'  now  I  s'pose  they  're  all  gone  to 
heaven.  An'  he  said  one  of  the  little  childrens 
was  his  great,  great  —  oh,  ever  so  big  grandfather ! 

"An'  then  we  come  to  Doctor  Tom's  own,  owny 
house,  an'  I  looked  up  an'  there  were  great  green 
trees,  tall  as  Jack's  bean-stalk,  only  just  as  thick, 
an'  not  stringy  like  bean-stalks  that  run  over  the 
windows." 


178         LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

(Her  mother  had  planted  scarlet  beans  over  one 
window,  and  these  were  what  little  Bess  referred 
to.) 

"An*  the  door  was  open,  an'  Miss  Pen  stood 
there  smilin',  just  like  Discretion  did  at  the  door 
of  the  House  Beautiful  Mis'  Brewer  read  about 
to  me  in  the  book.  An'  $uzette  was  there,  too, 
an'  Mehitable ;  an'  Mehitable  says,  '  Let  me  take 
her,  Doctor  Tom  ; '  but  Doctor  Tom  says,  '  No, 
she  's  my  own  little  girl,  and  nobody  sha'n't  carry 
her  but  me.'  An'  he  carried  me  up  a  stairs,  such 
a  high  stairs,  an'  put  me  on  a  lounge  in  his  own 
room,  an'  then  I  see  the  sea. 

"  You  never  did  see  the  sea,  not  one  of  you, 
'cept  Theodora  Stamford,  an'  she  see  it  when 
Teddy  brought  her  in  the  big  steamer  from  Bos- 
ton. An',  oh,  my  dear  childrens,  I  wish  you  could 
all  see  the  sea !  It  is  blue  like  the  sky  is  now,  an' 
the  ships  sail  on  it,  an'  sail  on  it,  an'  sail  on  it, 
away  an'  away,  right  into  the  sky.  An'  I  was 
goin'  to  ask  Doctor  Tom  if  that  was  the  way  folks 
went  to  heaven,  but  I  just  fell  asleep  a-watchin' 
'em  sail  away  and  away,  an'  when  I  woked  up  I 
forgot  it.  But  I  '11  ask  him  some  time  an'  tell  you. 

"  An'  when  I  woked  up  Doctor  Tom  fed  me 
himself  with  a  cunning,  teenty-taunty  spoon,  all 


LITTLE  BESS    TELLS    THE   STORY.         179 

bright  silver,  an'  the  ice-cream  was  sweet  an'  pink. 
'Twas  strawberry,  you  know,  just  like  the  ribbons 
in  the  gown  Miss  Pen  give  me.  You  all  see  that 
gown  when  I  was  ready  to  go  to  the  lawn-tennis 
party.  An'  you  Ve  all  seen  strawberry  ice-cream, 
'cause  Mehitable  sends  it  to  us  sometimes. 

"An'  Doctor  Tom  talked  just  as  funny  !  An' 
he  made  me  laugh  an'  laugh.  Oh,  I  do  love  Doc- 
tor Tom,  childrens !  I  think  Christ  was  like 
Doctor  Tom.  He  's  so  good  to  me !  An'  he  's 
good  to  ev'rybody,  Teddy  says,  an'  makes  folks 
well,  an'  stops  the  aches,  an'  speaks  so  soft  an' 
pleasant.  Oh,  I  do  love  to  have  Doctor  Tom  talk 
to  me  !  His  voice  is  so  good  an'  sweet  ;  it 's  like 
the  stars  shining." 

(It  is  difficult  to  tell  just  what  little  Bess  meant 
by  Doctor  Tom's  voice  being  like  the  stars  shin- 
ing. Perhaps-  she  had  a  dim  sense  of  the  truth 
that  all  harmony,  the  harmony  of  movement,  of 
expression,  of  sound,  is  related.  Such  things  are 
kept  from  the  wise  and  prudent  and  revealed  unto 
babes.) 

"  An'  then  Doctor  Tom  had  to  go  away.  Some- 
body was  took  sick,  an'  so  he  had  to  go  an'  make 
'em  well,  an'  speak  kind  to  'em.  An'  by-m-by 
Jason  carried  me  down.  An'  the  rooms  were  so 


ISO         LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH, 

big  an'  high,  an'  ev'rything  was  so  sweet  an' 
pretty,  the  curtains  a-wavin'  in  the  wind,  an'  such 
pretty  chairs,  an'  lots  an'  lots  of  books,  an'  beau- 
tiful pictures  on  the  walls  an'  on  the  tables  an' 
ev'ry  where. 

"  An'  Miss  Pen  said  :  '  P'r'aps  you  'd  like  to 
look  at  the  pictures,  little  Bess ; '  an'  I  said,  '  Yes, 
if  you  please.'  An'  there  was  one  I  wish  you 
could  see,  childrens.  'T  was  a  woman  an'  her 
little  baby  boy.  Such  a  fat  little  baby,  with  big, 
big  eyes  an'  round  arms,  an'  dimples  in  his  elbows, 
an'  hair  that  the  wind  blowed  an'  little  fat  toes  you 
could  say  little  pigs  went  to  market  on.  An'  she 
held  him,  an'  she  was  lovely,  an'  she  did  n't  look  at 
him.  She  looked  up  as  if  she  saw  somethin'  sad 
a-comin',  a  pain  mebbe,  that  was  goin'  to  hurt  her 
little  boy,  such  as  the  sick  folks  have.  An'  all 
round  her  head  the  angels  were  a-flyin'  with  little 
wings,  a-tryin'  to  keep  the  pain  off,  I  s'pose.  An' 
I  looked  at  it  a  long,  long  time,  an'  I  'most  cried, 
an'  I  'spect  I  could  n't  never  looked  at  it  enough. 

"  But  then  Miss  Pen  said,  Would  I  like  to  see 
Doctor  Tom  when  he  was  a  little  boy  ?  An'  I  said, 
'  Oh,  yes  !'  An'  she  showed  me  a  picture  painted 
bright,  an'  it  was  Doctor  Tom  when  he  was  a  little 
mite  of  a  boy.  His  hair  curled  all  over  his  head 


LITTLE  BESS   TELLS    THE   STORY.         l8l 

in  little  crinkles  an'  his  eyes  laughed.     He  was  a 
sweet  little  boy. 

"  An'  then  she  showed  me  another  picture,  an' 
she  said  't  was  the  '  Home  of  the  Bees.'  An' 
't  was  all  pink  an'  blue  an'  gold  an'  white  flowers 
an'  little  beehives  in  among  'em,  an'  bees  a-buzzin'. 
An'  I  said,  '  Is  it  a  real  place  or  a  make-b'lieve 
place  ? '  An'  Miss  Pen  said  't  was  a  real  place  an' 
she  'd  seen  it,  an'  there  was  lots  an'  lots  of  places 
just  as  beautiful  in  the  world. 

"  'T  is  a  very,  very  beautiful  world  you  an'  me 
live  in,  childrens,  an'  we  ought  to  be  ever  an'  ever 
so  good  'cause  we  are  let  to  live  in  this  beautiful 
world." 

Little  Bess  paused  here,  for  a  neighbor  stopped 
at  the  window  to  ask  how  she  was  this  fine  morn- 
ing, and  did  she  have  a  good  time  up  to  Doctor 
Tom's  grand  house  yesterday.  For  all  her  friends 
of  Clam-shell  Alley  and  that  vicinity  knew  of  her 
invitation  and  had  expressed  the  greatest  interest 
in  her  going.  Not  one  of  them  had  had  the 
least  feeling  of  envy,  which  was  rather  extraordi- 
nary, for  people  often  do  have  such  a  feeling  when 
they  see  one  of  their  number  invited  to  partake 
of  a  pleasure  from  which  they  are  excluded.  But, 
as  I  have  before  said,  envy,  like  all  other  evil 
spirits,  seemed  to  flee  from  little  Bess's  presence. 


1 82         LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

This  man  was  with  a  coal-cart,  and  he  left  it  to 
come  and  look  in  at  the  window.  His  face  was 
black  with  coal-dust  and  so  were  his  hands  and 
clothes.  In  fact,  the  only  white  about  him  was  his 
teeth  when  he  smiled,  and  the  whites  of  his  eyes. 
He  handed  Bess  something  done  up  in  a  soft  tissue 
paper.  The  paper  had  black  finger-marks  upon  it, 
of  course,  but  when  Bess  opened  it  there  was  a 
big,  pink-cheeked,  luscious  peach. 

"  I  guess  that  '11  taste  good  t'  ye,"  he  said, 
showing  a  good  deal  of  white  both  about  the 
eyes  and  mouth. 

Little  Bess  was  just  thanking  him  when  a  voice, 
a  boyish  voice,  shouted  :  — 

"  Start  your  old  apple-cart  and  don't  take  up  the 
whole  of  the  street." 

And  then  Suzette's  low,  clear  voice  was  heard 
remonstrating :  — 

"Don't,  please;  he's  speaking  to  little  Bess." 

The  man,  smiling  good-naturedly,  moved  his 
cart  one  side,  and  three  riders  came  up  and 
drew  rein  by  the  window.  They  were  Dick,  Su- 
zette,  and  Russell  Maybie.  Suzette  bowed  to  the 
coal-man,  who  touched  his  hat.  Russell  Maybie 
opened  his  eyes  at  this,  and  they  grew  still  wider 
as  he  caught  sight  of  little  Bess. 


LITTLE   BESS   TELLS 'THE  STORY.        183 

"  Is  this  where  she  lives  ? "  he  asked,  surveying 
the  small  gray  house  with  an  air  of  surprise.  But 
his  real  good  breeding  came  to  his  rescue.  He 
doffed  his  cap  and  looked  in.  "  Oh,  what  a  jolly 
place  !  And  is  this  your  family  ? "  he  asked,  look- 
ing at  the  dolls.  "  I  beg  pardon  for  shouting  out 
to  your  caller." 

Then,  with  a  smile  and  a  word  each  from 
Dick  and  Suzette,  they  passed  on,  and  little  Bess 
resumed  her  story.  Suzette  had  given  her  an  ex- 
quisite Jacqueminot  rose,  which  lay  by  the  peach. 

"An'  when  it  was  time  to  go  out,  Jason  carried 
me  an'  put  me  in  the  hammock,  and  folded  the 
pretty  shawls  about  me.  But  he  did  n't  cover  up 
my  white  gown.  An'  there  was  the  sea  again 
an'  the  ships  a-sailin' ;  an'  oh,  I  see  the  steamer  — 
the  real  steamer  you  come  in,  Theodora  Stam- 
ford. Oh,  how  it  did  sail !  Puff  !  puff !  An'  the 
smoke  a-streamin'  out  behind,  an'  it  sailed  right 
along  an'  never  hit  the  land.  I  said  't  was  funny 
it  did  n't  hit  the  land,  an'  Miss  Pen  said  there  was 
a  man  that  knew  just  how  to  sail  it  so  it  should  n't 
hit.  An'  I  said,  '  Was  the  Mayflower  like  that  ? ' 
An'  she  said,  'No,  the  Mayflower  had  white  sails 
an'  did  n't  go  puff !  puff ! '  An'  there  was  two  little 
white  houses,  away  off,  where  the  lights  shine  all 


184         LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

night  to  tell  the  poor  sailors  which  way  to  sail ;  an' 
the  pretty  island  with  trees ;  an'  Miss  Pen  said 
that  island  was  where  the  Pilgrim  folks  stayed  the 
first  Sunday.  Suzette  telled  me  about  that  Sun- 
day. An'  away  over  the  other  side  of  the  sea  was 
a  high  hill,  an'  Captain  Myles  Standish  lived  there. 
He  used  to  take  care  of  the  Pilgrim  folks  and 
childrens,  so  nothin'  shouldn't  hurt  'em — the 
Indians  nor  nothin'.  An'  he  had  a  little  girl  an' 
she  lived  there  with  him.  It  was  a  many,  many 
years  ago,  before  you  an'  me  was  born,  childrens. 

"  An,  then,  by-m-by,  the  comp'ny  come.  Such 
a  lot  o'  nice  boys  an'  girls !  An'  they  come  Up  an' 
talked  to  me  an'  said,  '  We  's  glad  to  see  you  here, 
little  Bess.'  An'  they  were  just  as  nice,  an'  had 
such  nice  hands  an'  pretty  clo'es.  An'  one  of  'em 
is  comin'  to  see  me,  she  said.  An'  you  will  all  see 
her,  childrens,  an'  you  must  behave  nice  an'  speak 
soft  an'  low  an'  be  a  credit  to  me. 

"  An'  then  they  played  the  lawn  tennis.  'T  is 
such  a  lovely  play !  'T  is  a  runnin'  play.  An' 
they  hit  the  balls  an'  then  skip  an'  run.  'T  is  so 
nice  to  skip  an'  run !  An'  then  some  one  hits  a 
ball  beautiful  an'  ev'rybody  shouts  an'  claps  their 
hands,  an'  I  clapped  my  hands  too. 

"  I  was  n't  tired  one  mite.     Miss  Pen  come  an' 


LITTLE   BESS   TELLS    THE  STORY.         185 

asked  me  was  n't  I  tired  ?  An'  I  said,  '  No,  not  a 
mite.'  'Twas  like  watchin'  the  fairies,  an'  nobody 
could  n't  never  get  tired  a-watchin'  the  fairies. 
An'  ev'rybody  was  just  as  good  to  me  ! 

"  An',  by-m-by,  they  stopped  an'  eat,  an'  Suzette 
poured  tea.  An'  there  was  nobody  quite  so  sweet 
an'  good  as  she,  childrens.  An'  then  Dick  brought 
me  some  tea  an'  some  bread  an'  butter.  An'  he 
stood  an'  talked  an'  fixed  my  shawls  an'  said, 
'  How  pretty  you  looks,  little  Bess  !  How  bright 
your  eyes  are  ! '  An'  I  said,  '  I  should  think  a 
little  girl's  eyes  that  had  such  good  times  ought  to 
be  bright.' 

"  An'  Doctor  Tom  come  home  an'  they  all  went 
away.  An'  they  come  an'  said,  '  Good-by,  an'  I 
hope  you'll  come  to  lawn  tennis  again,  little  Bess.' 
An'  then  Doctor  Tom  carried  me  in,  an'  Miss  Pen 
played  on  the  piano  just  as  my  mother  says  they 
do  where  she  works.  An'  oh,  't  was  beautiful ! 

"  An'  that  was  one  of  the  boys  that  you  see  just 
now.  An'  he  's  nice,  an'  he  did  n't  mean  to  speak 
loud  to  Jerry.  For  Jerry  is  such  a  nice  man. 

"An"  then  Doctor  Tom  bringed  me  home 
himself." 

So  ended  little  Bess's  account  of  the  lawn- 
tennis  party.  She  will  doubtless  tell  it  many 


1 86        LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

times  more,  however.  Squawleena  will  ask  for  it, 
and  little  Violet,  and  poor  dear  Betsy  Prig.  Each 
in  their  turn  will  say,  "  Do  tell  us  again,  little 
mother,  about  Doctor  Tom's  lawn-tennis  party." 
And  little  Bess  will  be  only  too  happy  to  comply. 
She  will  never  be  tired  of  telling  over  this  delight- 
ful experience. 

In  fact,  she  had  hardly  finished  before  Teddy 
arrived  for  a  short  stay,  come  "  to  hear  all  about 
it,"  as  he  said.  She  gave  him  the  peach,  which  he 
refused,  though  she  insisted  upon  his  taking  it,  she 
having  had  such  "  lots  and  lots "  of  good  things 
the  day  before.  They  finally  compromised  by 
splitting  it  in  two  and  each  taking  half. 

With  lawn  tennis  Teddy  was  tolerably  familiar, 
as  familiar  as  an  outsider  can  be.  He  had  never 
played  it,  but  he  had  watched  the  game  by  the 
hour  over  tennis-court  fences  or  peeping  furtively 
through  hedges. 

He  would  like  to  have  learned,  but  he  fully  real- 
ized that  this  courtly  game  was  not  for  "  the  likes 
of  him,"  as  he  sometimes  said  to  himself.  To  play 
lawn  tennis  one  must  have  good  clothes,  neither 
ragged  nor  patched  nor  dirty. 

To  be  sure  the  boys  of  Clam-shell  Alley  and 
vicinity  sometimes  got  up  a  game  with  old  fish- 


LITTLE  BESS    TELLS   THE  STORY.         187 

nets  and  broken  oars  and  abandoned  croquet  balls 
picked  from  dust  heaps,  which  they  called  lawn 
tennis.  But  such  Teddy  laughed  to  scorn.  Lawn 
tennis,  indeed ! 

He  knew  all  about  baseball,  however.  Any- 
body, however  ragged  or  patched,  was  welcome  on 
most  of  the  many  baseball  grounds  about  the 
town,  if  he  only  played  well.  And  Teddy  was  a 
capital  ball-player.  Mis'  White  did  not  approve 
of  his  playing,  of  course. 

It  wore  out  his  clothes,  she  said,  his  shoes  espe- 
cially. He  had  two  pairs  a  year,  and  if  he  were 
careful  as  he  ought  to  be,  he  need  have  but  one. 
But  he  was  a  "dre'tful  expensive  and  ungrateful 
boy,  that 's  what  he  was."  So  said  Mis'  White. 

Poor  Teddy !  it  was  hard  upon  him.  For  he 
was  trying,  really  trying,  that  summer  to  be  care- 
ful of  his  clothes.  It  quite  humiliated  him  at 
times,  when  he  saw  Dick  and  Suzette,  that  he  was 
so  shabby.  Only  they  did  not  seem  to  notice  it. 

He  entered  with  even  more  than  his  usual  zest 
into  little  Bess's  story  of  her  happy  day.  It 
pleased  him  to  see  her  so  animated,  for  some- 
times, of  late,  he  had  fancied  she  did  not  seem  so 
bright  as  usual,  and  he  had  anxiously  asked  of  her 
mother  if  she  were  as  well. 


1 88        LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

He  picked  up  Squawleena,  and  restored  her  to 
her  place  in  the  line,  and  then  hurried  off  to  dig 
some  clams,  for  it  was  low  tide. 

Her  mother  came  in  at  noon  to  give  little  Bess 
her  dinner,  and  towards  night,  when  she  had  begun 
to  look  for  the  return  of  the  three  riders,  who, 
they  had  told  her,  were  to  join  a  picnic  party  at 
South  Pond,  and  to  listen  for  the  familiar  step  of 
Castor  and  Pollux,  Esther  Morton  came  in. 

Little  Bess  was  feeling  lonely  in  spite  of  all  her 
brave  cheerfulness,  and  her  cheeks  flushed  with 
pleasure  at  the  sight  of  Esther. 

"  I  found,"  said  Esther,  "  that  we  are  to  go 
away  to-morrow.  Mamma  has  had  a  telegram 
from  papa  to  meet  him  in  New  York.  But  I 
could  not  go  without  seeing  you  once  more  and 
bringing  you  a  little  keepsake  to  remember  me  by. 
For  I  don't  want  you  to  forget  me,  my  dear  little 
Bess." 

As  she  spoke,  Esther  put  down  upon  the  table 
what,  at  first  sight,  looked  to  little  Bess  like  a 
pretty  box.  It  was  of  rosewood,  inlaid  with  sil- 
ver, and  was  indeed  a  box,  but  such  a  box  as 
she  not  only  had  never  seen,  but  had  never  even 
heard  of. 

And  presently  she  thought  a  dozen  birds  were 


LITTLE  BESS    TELLS   THE  STORY.         189 

singing  in  it,  like  the  four  and  twenty  blackbirds 
in  the  king's  pie  ;  for  it  was  a  music-box.  Esther 
had  touched  the  spring,  and  now  stood  looking  at 
little  Bess  with  pleased  eyes. 

As  to  dear  little  Bess  herself,  her  delight  was 
literally  unspeakable.  For  some  moments  she 
said  nothing,  but  lay  in  a  kind  of  surprised 
ecstasy. 

"Well,"  spoke  Esther  at  last,  "do  you  like  it, 
little  Bess  ? " 

Like  it !  Little  Bess  turned  her  sparkling  eyes 
upon  Esther. 

"  O  Miss  Morton  !  what  is  it  ?  Is  it  birds  shut 
up  in  it  ? " 

"  It 's  a  music-box,  little  Bess.  It  plays  twelve 
tunes,  and  it  has  to  be  wound  up  like  a  clock.  I 
shall  show  you  how  to  do  it,"  replied  Esther, 
charmed  with  the  success  of  her  attempt  to  give 
the  little  creature  pleasure. 

She  had  at  first  been  at  a  loss  what  keepsake  to 
give  her.  She  had  thought  of  an  illustrated  book, 
of  pictures,  of  something  to  wear ;  but  all  these 
seemed  commonplace.  She  wanted  to  give  her 
something  fresh,  something  unique  like  the  little 
thing  herself,  she  had  told  her  mother.  And  her 
mother  had  suggested  the  music-box  which  had 


LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

• 

been  bought  for  Esther  when  they  were  last  in 
Switzerland. 

Esther,  remembering  what  little  Bess  had  said 
about  Sybil  Smythe's  piano-playing,  had  at  once  ex- 
claimed, "  O  mamma  dearest,  that's  just  the  thing ! 
You  always  do  think  of  exactly  the  right  thing. 
That  is  just  —  splendid!  There,  you  must  let  me 
say  that  just  this  once,  for  it  is  splendid.  It  's  a 
shining  thought  of  yours."  For  Mrs.  Morton  was, 
in  general,  merciless  towards  the  prevalent  girlish 
extravagance  of  speech. 

"  But,  little  Bess,"  Esther  went  on,  "  don't  call 
me  Miss  Morton.  Call  me  Esther.  I  want  you 
always  to  think  of  me  as  Esther,  as  a  girl  like 
yourself,  only  bigger,  you  know.  And  these  are 
your  dolls !  Do  tell  me  about  them,  after  we  have 
had  a  little  more  music." 

The  music-box  played  on,  until  it  had  gone 
through  its  twelve  tunes,  and  then  Esther  stopped 
it.  "There,"  she  said,  "it  will  keep  on  playing 
like  that  for  more  than  an  hour,  and  will  sing  you 
to  sleep  every  night,  if  you  like." 

While  little  Bess  talked  on  about  her  dolls, 
Esther  looked  around  the  little  room.  It  had 
many  comforts  and  many  pretty  ornaments  in  it, 
given  to  little  Bess  by  her  friends,  Mis'  Brewer, 


LITTLE  BESS    TELLS    THE  STORY.         \gi 

Doctor  Tom,  and  Miss  Penelope.  In  one  corner 
stood  an  old-fashioned,  turned-up  bedstead,  hidden 
behind  curtains.  But  how  narrow,  how  small  it 
seemed  to  the  young  girl  who  had  lived  all  her  life 
in  an  American  "  palace,"  such  as  one  of  our 
money  princes  can  build  or  buy  !  Here,  it  was 
evident,  in  these  narrow  limits,  the  life  of  this 
little  one  had  been  spent. 

"  That  was,  a  lovely  lawn-tennis  party  yester- 
day, little  Bess,"  she  said. 

"  Oh,  it  was  beautiful ! "  replied  the  child.  "  It 
was  #// beautiful,"  she  repeated,  with  an  emphasis 
on  the  "all."  "I  never  see  the  sea  before,  nor 
the  lawn  tennis.  An'  the  boys  an'  girls  were  so 
nice,  an'  spoke  so  good  an'  sweet.  An'  I  never 
see  Doctor  Tom's  house  before.  Such  a  pretty 
house !  I  'm  glad  Doctor  Tom  lives  in  such  a 
pretty  house.  I  do  love  Doctor  Tom.  Oh,  I  do 
love  ev'rybody ;  ev'rybody  is  so  good  to  me." 

"  I  suppose  you  go  out  often  ? "  asked   Esther. 

"Oh,  no!"  was  little  Bess's  surprised  reply.  "I 
never  went  before.  I  can't,  you  know.  I  stay  at 
home  all  the  time,  me  an'  my  dolls.  We  have 
such  good  times  ! "  and  she  smiled  upon  the  row. 
She  evidently  felt  that  their  conduct  during  this 
visit  of  Esther's  was  unexceptionable.  They  were 
indeed  "a  credit  to  her." 


1 92         LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

They  had  much  talk  of  a  similar  nature,  and 
little  Bess's  evident  content  with  the  narrow  con- 
ditions of  her  life,  nay,  more,  her  innocently  joyous 
acquiescence  in  them,  struck  very  deeply  into 
Esther's  girlish  soul. 

That  night  her  mother  was  greatly  surprised 
and  stirred  when  Esther  came  up  to  her,  and, 
putting  her  arms  around  her,  laid  her  head  on  her 
shoulder  and  burst  into  tears. 

"  My  daughter,  what  is  it  ? "  she  asked  anx- 
iously. 

"  O  mamma,"  was  Esther's  reply,  "  why  has 
God  given  me  everything,  and  dear  little  Bess 
nothing  ?" 

"Perhaps,  dearest,"  said  her  mother  after  a 
moment's  hesitation,  "  perhaps  so  that  you  may 
know  the  blessedness  of  that  saying  of  our  Lord, 
'  I  was  an  hungered,  and  ye  gave  me  meat :  I  was 
thirsty,  and  ye  gave  me  drink  :  I  was  a  stranger, 
and  ye  took  me  in  :  naked,  and  ye  clothed  me :  I 
was  sick,  and  ye  visited  me :  I  was  in  prison,  and 
ye  came  unto  me.' 

"But,"  she  added,  "are  you  sure  he  has  given 
dear  little  Bess  nothing  ?  " 


CHAPTER   XIII. 

THE   FIRST   NEW   ENGLAND    THANKSGIVING. 

"They  little  thought  how  pure  a  light 

With  years  should  gather  round  that  day; 
How  love  should  keep  their  memories  bright, 
How  wide  a  realm  their  sons  should  sway." 

T3  USSELL  MAYBIE  stuck  to  his  resolution 
•^•^  made  at  the  lawn-tennis  party  to  learn 
something  concerning  Pilgrim  Plymouth.  He  was 
a  very  active  boy  and  he  had  learned  the  modern 
side  of  it  pretty  thoroughly.  He  had  been  bass- 
fishing  at  Long  Pond,  boating  at  Billington  Sea, 
and  codfishing  in  the  bay.  He  knew  all  the  intri- 
cate ways  that  cross  and  recross  each  other  in  the 
great  tract  of  woods  lying  between  Plymouth  and 
Sandwich.  He  had  formed  the  acquaintance  of 
its  wood-choppers  and  its  deer. 

He  had  explored  the  section  of  country  lying 
back  of  the  town  which,  seen  from  Burial  Hill,  is 
so  picturesque  with  its  rounded  hills,  suggestive  of 
hidden  streamlets  and  woody  dells.  Oh,  no !  he 
had  not  wasted  his  time  by  any  means.  But  he 

193  / 


194        LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

had  seen  it  all  without  a  thought  of  those  associa- 
tions which  hallow  it,  and  clothe  all  this  Pilgrim 
country  with  a  light  "  that  never  was  on  sea  or 
land."  But  now  he  would  redeem  the  time,  and 
Dick  and  Suzette  were  only  too  glad  to  help  him. 

Suzette  was  a  capital  guide.  She  possessed  the 
one  requisite  generally  lacking  in  the  official  guide, 
a  thorough  sympathy  with  her  subject.  To  com- 
pare small  things  with  great,  seeing  Pilgrim 
Plymouth  under  her  guidance  was  like  visiting 
Westminster  Abbey  with  Dean  Stanley  or  going 
over  Winchester  Cathedral  with  a  certain  white- 
haired  old  verger  who  dearly  loves  its  every  stone. 

She  went  from  place  to  place  with  enthusiasm. 
She  again  looked  over  the  familiar  Mourt's  Rela- 
tion and  was  authority  on  everything  relating  to 
the  daily  life  and  doings  of  the  Pilgrims.  I  can 
not  say  that  she  felt  or  expressed  an  equal  interest 
in  their  business  relations  with  Mr.  Thomas  Wes- 
ton,  or  in  the  complications  arising  from  the 
behavior  of  Mr.  Lyford.  That  was  hardly  to  be 
expected.  She  liked  best  to  dwell  upon  the  details 
of  those  first  years,  and  many  a  talk  concerning 
them  did  the  three  have  seated  upon  the  zinc- 
covered  seats  on  Burial  Hill. 

Many   misrepresentations    had   been    made    in 


FIRST  NEW  ENGLAND  THANKSGIVING.    195 

England  as  early  as  1623  concerning  the  condi- 
tion of  things  at  Plymouth.  And  in  1624  Gov- 
ernor Bradford  notes  these  misrepresentations,  or 
"objections,"  as  he  calls  them  in  his  History,  and 
replies  to  them.  They  are  all  of  value,  but  two  of 
them  especially  interested  and  amused  Suzette. 
One  of  these  was  the  fourth  in  order :  that 
"children  were  not  catechised  nor  taught  to  read." 
To  which  Governor  Bradford  replies  :  "  Neither 
is  true  ;  for  many  take  pains  with  their  own  [chil- 
dren] as  they  can  ;  indeed,  we  have  no  common 
school  for  want  of  a  fit  person  or,  hitherto,  means 
to  maintain  one,  though  we  desire  now  to  begin." 
This  they  did.  The  children  of  the  Pilgrims  and 
their  descendants  have  always  been  taught ;  and 
no  matter  to  what  section  of  our  country  they 
have  emigrated,  they  have  always  taken  with 
them  the  little  wooden  school-house  of  New 
England. 

The  other  objection  was  that  "  The  people  are 
much  annoyed  with  muskeetoes."  To  which  the 
answer  was  made :  "  They  are  too  delicate  and 
unfit  to  begin  new  plantations  and  colonies  that 
can  not  endure  the  biting  of  a  muskeeto.  We 
would  wish  such  to  keepe  at  home  till,  at  least, 
they  be  muskeeto  proof.  Yet  this  place  is  as 


196         LITTLE   PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

free  as  any,  and  experience  teacheth  that  the 
more  the  land  is  tilled  and  the  woods  cut  down, 
the  fewer  there  will  be,  and  in  the  end  scarce  any 
at  all ; "  which,  truly,  has  come  to  pass,  for  Ply- 
mouth town  is  free  from  the  mosquito  pest. 

Others  besides  Sybil  Smythe  have  brought  the 
accusation  of  grimness  and  a  general  sourness  of 
disposition  against  our  Pilgrim  Fathers,  and  if  we 
were  to  believe  what  they  tell  us  concerning  them 
we  should  not  look  for  any  mention  of  natural 
beauties  in  their  journals  and  letters.  It  would 
have  mattered  little  to  them,  we  should  say, 
whether  the  sky  were  blue  or  green,  or  whether 
flowers  bloomed  or  did  not  bloom  in  their  New 
England. 

But  in  the  very  first  pages  of  their  journals,  as 
spring  comes  on,  we  read  of  the  birds  singing 
in  the  woods  "most  pleasantly."  In  a  letter 
written  by  Edward  Winslow,  in  the  autumn  of 
1621,  he  makes  mention  not  only  of  the  deer  and 
codfish,  the  lobsters  and  "good  sallets,"  of  grapes 
and  strawberries,  of  wild  plums  and  cherries,  but 
also  of  roses,  "white,  red,  and  damask,"  single, 
"but  very  sweet  indeed."  Doubtless  the  children, 
little  Humilitie  Cooper  being  among  them,  to- 
gether with  the  naughty  little  runaway,  John 


FIRST  NEW  ENGLAND  THANKSGIVING.    197 

Billington,  gathered  these  roses,  "  white,  red,  and 
damask,"  and  our  Pilgrim  mothers  distilled  rose- 
water  from  them  as  they  had  been  wont  to  do  in 
their  beloved  mother-land,  old  England. 

In  this  same  letter  Edward  Winslow  gives  a 
brief  —  too  brief  —  account  of  the  first  New 
England  Thanksgiving  day,  in  the  autumn  of 
1621. 

We  should  like  to  know  every  detail  of  this  day, 
the  beginning  of  a  long  line  of  Thanksgiving  days, 
—  just  what  they  had  for  dinner  and  how  it  was 
cooked.  Each  family  had  the  same  thing,  doubt- 
less, for  though  they  were  made  up  into  seven 
families,  they  as  yet  held  all  provisions  in  common. 

We  should  like  to  know  whether  Francis  Billing- 
ton  and  Wrasling  Brewster  and  the  rest  of  the 
boys  overate,  and  who  among  the  girls  got  the 
wish-bones  —  whether  Humilitie  Cooper  or  Re- 
member Allerton  or  Damaris  Hopkins ;  whether 
they  had  any  plums  in  their  pudding  or  whether 
they  had  any  pudding  at  all.  We  are  sure  of  one 
thing,  however,  that  they  marched  in  procession  to 
the  Common  House  and  there  gave  thanks  and 
listened  to  a  long  discourse  from  Elder  Brewster, 
during  which  the  children  had  immense  difficulty 
in  keeping  still,  as  their  thoughts  strayed  off  to 
the  good  things  in  store. 


198         LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

In  the  spring,  says  Winslow,  they  had  planted 
twenty  acres  of  corn  and  six  acres  of  barley  and 
pease.  The  corn  had  yielded  abundantly,  the 
yield  of  barley  had  been  fair,  while  the  pease  had 
turned  out  altogether  bad,  having  been  dried  and 
parched  by  the  sun. 

The  harvest  was,  in  the  main,  good,  however, 
and  with  codfish,  lobsters,  and  clams  in  the  sea, 
and  deer,  ducks,  partridges,  and  turkeys  in  the 
wood  and  ponds,  there  was  abundance  of  food. 
So  Governor  Bradford,  after  the  harvest  had  been 
gotten  in,  sent  four  men  out  "fowling,"  in  order 
that  they  all  might,  "after  a  special  manner," 
rejoice  together  over  the  fruits  of  their  labors ; 
that  is,  by  feasting  in  the  good  old  English  fashion. 
And  ever  since  has  New  England  rejoiced  "after 
a  special  manner,"  as  the  yearly  harvest  has  come 
round ;  and  not  New  England  only,  for  the 
Thanksgiving  of  the  Pilgrims  has  now  become 
our  great  national  Thanksgiving,  which  is 
grounded,  like  many  other  of  our  good  things, 
on  Plymouth  Rock. 

Those  four  fowlers  sent  out  by  Governor  Brad- 
ford killed  fowls  enough  to  last  the  whole  com- 
pany a  week,  and  that  turkeys  were  roasted  for 
the  tables  of  the  first  New  England  Thanksgiving 
goes  without  saying. 


FIRST  NEW  ENGLAND  THANKSGIVING.    199 

How  they  were  roasted  was  a  matter  of  specu- 
lation with  Suzette. 

"  Tied  to  a  string  hanging  from  a  hook  in  the 
ceiling  and  roasted  before  the  great  wood-fire,  as 
my  great-grandmother  roasted  her  meat,  and 
as  the  gypsies  do  to-day,"  stoutly  declared  uncle 
Tom. 

"Or  roasted  on  a  jack  and  tended  and  basted 
by  the  children,"  said  aunt  Pen,  to  which  opinion 
Suzette  was  most  inclined.  She  could  readily 
fancy  her  pet  Pilgrim,  little  Humilitie,  a  tire 
enveloping  her  small  figure  from  her  quaint  cap  to 
the  very  tips  of  her  quainter  shoes,  gravely  turning 
the  turkey  and  basting  it. 

"I've  seen  a  jack,"  said  uncle  Tom,  "that 
winds  up  like  a  clock  and  goes  itself,  but  I  doubt 
if  the  Pilgrims  had  anything  so  elaborate." 

But  what  did  they  have  besides  the  turkeys  and 
ducks  and  fish  ?  We  do  not  hear  of  any  vegeta- 
bles. Later  on  they  had  plenty,  for  there  is  an 
old  ballad  that  says  :  — 

If  fresh  meat  be  wanted  to  fill  up  our  dish, 
We  have  carrots  and  turnips  whenever  we  wish ; 
And  if  we  've  a  mind  for  a  delicate  dish, 
We  go  to  the  clam-bank  and  there  we  catch  fish. 


2OO        LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

For  pottage  and  pudding  and  custard  and  pies 
Our  pumpkins  and  parsnips  are  common  supplies. 
We  have  pumpkins  at  morning  and  pumpkins  at  noon; 
If  it  was  not  for  pumpkins  we  should  be  undoon. 

At  that  time,  however,  carrots  and  turnips  were 
unattainable  luxuries,  and  no  child  ate  pumpkin- 
pie  on  that  first  Thanksgiving  day. 

Each  person  had  a  peck  of  corn  weekly  for  his 
supply  ;  and  from  this,  together  with  the  barley, 
their  bread  was  made.  But  as  to  plum-pudding, 
that  was  hopeless. 

"  Perhaps  they  had  a  kind  of  substitute  in  an 
ancient  dish  called  '  apple-slump,' "  suggested  uncle 
Tom,  for  this  conversation  concerning  the.  Thanks- 
giving day  took  place,  not  on  Burial  Hill,  but  one 
evening  at  twilight  under  the  lindens  at  uncle 
Tom's  door.  "  As  they  had  no  apples,  they  could 
have  used  plums,  or  even  grapes  after  stoning 
them.  You  see  I  am  a  very  fair  cook,  pussy. 
Apple-slump  is  made  by  filling  a  deep  stone  or 
earthen  pot  nearly  full  of  fruit  and  covering  it 
with  a  crust.  They  could  make  the  crust  out  of 
Indian  meal  and  water.  Then,  when  the  crust  is 
brown  and  crisp,  it  is  crushed  down  into  the  boil- 
ing fruit.  Mehitable  knows  how  to  make  it.  It 
should  be  eaten  with  cream." 


FIRST  NEW  ENGLAND  THANKSGIVING.    2OI 

"  Cream  !  !  "  cried  out  Suzette,  with  double  ex- 
clamation points.  "  Why,  uncle  Tom,  they  had  n't 
any  cows  ! " 

"  True,  true  ;  poor  things  !  "  rejoined  uncle  Tom. 
"  I  retire  from  the  discussion.  The  Pilgrim  dinner 
is  beyond  me." 

"  It 's  awfully  interesting,"  remarked  Russell 
Maybie,  who  discreetly  said  nothing  upon  the  sub- 
ject, but  listened  with  all  his  might,  thinking  how 
he  would  astonish  his  sister  Molly  with  the  extent 
of  his  information  concerning  the  Pilgrims. 

"  '  Our  Indian  corn,'  says  Winslow,  '  maketh  as 
pleasant  meal  as  rice.'  And  that  remark  of  his 
suggests  grounds  for  a  new  speculation,"  said  aunt 
Pen. 

"  Perhaps  they  had  'furmenty.'  " 

"And  what's  'furmenty'  ?"  asked  Dick. 

"  It 's  an  old  English  dish  fully  as  old,  if  not 
older,  than  the  Pilgrims,"  replied  aunt  Pen.  "  It 
is  mentioned  in  the  account  of  the  great  doings 
at  Kenilworth  Castle,  when  Queen  Elizabeth  vis- 
ited my  Lord  Leicester  —  mentioned  by  some  one 
who  was  on  the  spot,  too. 

"It  is  generally  made  with  wheat,  but  why  not 
with  barley  or  hominy  ?  for  Edward  Win  slew's 
meal  was  simply  hominy.  Our  Pilgrim  mothers, 


2O2         LITTLE   PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

taught  by  '  Mistris  Experience,'  must  have  been 
fruitful  in  expedients.  They  must  have  been 
obliged  to  make  many  things  'do.'  And  furmenty 
being  such  a  familiar  dish,  they  must  have  made 
it  with  hominy. 

"You  soak  the  wheat  or  hominy  a  long  time, 
and  then  you  put  it  in  a  '  pippin,'  cover  it  with 
water  and  '  creen  '  it  in  the  oven  —  so  said  the 
Yorkshire  woman  who  told  me  once  how  it  was 
done.  And  then  after  the  '  creening,'  which  must 
last  several  hours,  you  cook  it  in  a  big  brass  pan 
with  milk  and  eggs  and  currants,  and  eat  it  with 
horn  spoons  stuck  in  a  bunch  in  the  middle  of 
the  brass  pan,  the  Kenilworth  man  says,  that 
being  the  only  implement  fit  to  eat  it  with.  It 's 
a  Mothering-Day  dish,  and  Mothering  Day  is  a 
kind  of  Thanksgiving  Day.  And  I  think  that 's 
what  the  Pilgrim  mothers  had  for  Thanksgiving 
pudding." 

"But,  aunt  Pen,"  remonstrated  Suzette,  "they 
did  n'  t  have  milk." 

"  Nor  currants,"  added  Doctor  Tom,  "  nor  eggs." 

"  Well,  then,  they  made  water  do,  and  used 
dried  huckleberries,"  rejoined  aunt  Pen.  "  And 
ducks'  eggs — wild  ducks'  eggs." 

"Pen,"  said  uncle  Tom  solemnly,  "you  would 


FIRST  NEW  ENGLAND  THANKSGIVING.    203 

have  made  an  excellent  Pilgrim  mother  yourself. 
But  these  are  vain  speculations." 

And  so  they  are,  but  "awfully  interesting,"  as 
Russell  Maybie  said. 

But,  whatever  they  had,  they  ate  it  with  thanks- 
giving, in  their  thatched  log-houses,  with  the 
"  mighty  ocean  which  they  had  passed  "  behind 
them  and  an  unknown  sea  before  them.  They 
did  also  what  should  always  be  done  by  the  more 
favored  on  Thanksgiving  day — they  entertained 
the  stranger  at  their  gates. 

Massasoit  came  with  ninety-one  of  his  braves, 
and  the  Pilgrims  feasted  them  for  three  days. 
They  had  an  abundance,  as  we  have  seen,  and 
after  the  feast  the  Indians  returned  their  hospi- 
tality with  a  gift  of  five  deer  which  they  had  shot. 

They  entertained  their  Indian  guests  with  a 
military  drill,  firing  off  their  matchlocks  and 
doubtless  their  cannon  upon  the  platform  on 
Burial  Hill.  The  thunder  and  flash  of  these  can- 
non would  duly  impress  these  children  of  the 
wild  wood,  who  as  yet  possessed  only  the  sim- 
plest weapons. 

They  had  a  wholesome  dread  of  powder  and 
shot,  and  when,  in  the  autumn  of  1621,  Canonicus, 
a  Narragansett  chief,  sent  a  bundle  of  arrows 


2O4         LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

bound  with  a  rattlesnake  skin  as  a  defiance  to 
Governor  Bradford,  and  he  returned  the  skin 
stuffed  with  powder  and  shot,  Canonicus  was  so 
afraid  of  it  he  would  not  have  it  in  his  wigwam, 
and  it  was  handed  about  from  place  to  place,  until 
it  finally  found  its  way  back  to  Plymouth. 

In  November,  shortly  after  the  first  Thanks- 
giving day,  the  Fortune  arrived  from  England, 
bringing  thirty-five  additional  colonists.  They 
were  most  welcome,  though  somewhat  illy  supplied 
with  food  and  household  utensils.  In  fact,  they 
had  not  so  much  as  "  bisket-cakes,"  or  "a  pot  or 
pan  to  dress  meat  in." 

"  The  plantation  was  glad  of  this  addition  of 
strength,  but  could  have  wished  that  many  of 
them  had  been  of  better  condition,  and  all  of  them 
better  furnished  with  provisions,"  writes  Governor 
Bradford,  adding  philosophically,  "  but  it  could  not 
be  helped." 

When  the  Fortune  sailed  for  England,  which  it 
did  in  fourteen  days  after  its  arrival,  it  was  laden 
with  "  good  clapboard,"  and  two  hogsheads  of 
beaver  and  otter  skins,  secured  by  barter  from  the 
Indians.  None  of  the  colonists,  it  seems,  had 
ever  seen  a  beaver-skin  until  they  came  to  New 
England,  and  it  was  Squanto  who  told  them  their 


FIRST  NEW  ENGLAND  THANKSGIVING.    205 

value.  The  whole  cargo  returned  to  England  was 
estimated  to  be  worth  five  hundred  pounds,  and 
five  hundred  pounds  at  that  time  was  worth  treble 
what  it  is  now.  In  this  same  vessel  went  Ed- 
ward Winslow's  letter  of  "  Good  Tidings,"  from 
which  I  have  quoted. 

Shortly  after  the  sailing  of  the  Fortune,  the  Pil- 
grims took  account  of  their  provisions,  and  found 
that  each  would  have  to  be  put  on  half-allowance, 
until  fish  came  again  in  the  spring.  This  was 
"hard,  but  they  bore  it  patiently  under  hope  of 
supply  "  arriving  from  England. 

So  the  year  1621,  which  began  so  sadly  for 
them,  ended  as  does  often  a  dark  and  stormy  day, 
if  not  with  a  clear,  calm  sky,  yet  with  cheerful 
gleams  of  light. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

THE  SAD  GLAD  YEAR  OF  1623. 

Oh,  strong  hearts  and  true !  not  one  went  back  in  the  Mayflower ! 
No,  not  one  looked  back,  who  had  set  his  hand  to  the  ploughing. 

—  Longfellow. 

God  sifted  a  whole  Nation  that  he  might  send  choice  Grain  out 
into  this  Wilderness.  —  Stoughton,  1668. 

WHAT  plucky  fellows  they  were  !  "  remarked 
Russell. 

"  Yes,  they  had  lots  of  grit,  and  it  is  n't  played 
out  yet,  uncle  Tom  says.  It  's  Pilgrim  grit  that 
is  carrying  on  our  nation  to-day,  he  says."  It 
was  Dick  who  said  this. 

The  friends  were  on  Burial  Hill,  seated  under 
the  tree  hard  by  Governor  Bradford's -monument, 
near  which  is  the  tombstone  of  his  son  Major 
William  Bradford. 

At  least  Suzette  was  sitting  upon  the  zinc- 
covered  seat,  while  Dick  and  Russell  lay  stretched 
upon  the  turf. 

The  sky  was  free  from  clouds  though  slightly 
obscured  by  a  silvery  haze.  Not  a  breeze  stirred, 

206 


THE  SAD    GLAD    YEAR    OF  1623.  2O/ 

and  the  harbor,  which  was  now  at  full  tide,  and  the 
bay  beyond  were  like  a  sea  of  glass. 

The  atmospheric  conditions  were  such  as  produce 
those  ghostly  effects  known  as  mirages.  Partial 
or  limited  mirages  are  not  uncommon  on  this 
coast.  It  is  not  unusual  at  times  to  see  portions 
of  Cape  Cod ;  sometimes  its  whole  length  is  visible. 
But  on  this  morning  even  the  roofs  and  spires  of 
Provincetown  were  lifted  above  the  horizon. 

"  See !  see !  "  said  Suzette.  "  There  is  where 
they  had  the  first  New  England  washing-day, 
Russell." 

"  And  where  they  signed  the  Compact,"  added 
Dick.  "  We  've  never  seen  it  like  that  before, 
Suzette." 

"  Halloo !  Teddy,"  he  called  out  as  he  caught 
sight  of  the  well-known  bristling  straw  hat,  half- 
way down  the  declivity  of  the  hill.  "  Come  up 
here  and  look  at  this." 

Teddy  had  seen  them,  but  the  presence  of  a 
third  person  had  made  him  hesitate  to  join  them. 
But  now  he  advanced,  holding  in  his  hand  a  small 
bouquet  of  the  late  sabbatia,  which  he  gave  to 
Suzette,  lifting  that  same  bristling  hat  as  he 
did  so. 

"  Did  you  ever  see  anything  like  that  before, 
Teddy  ? "  asked  Dick. 


2O8        LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

Three  ships  were  seen  sailing  apparently  in  mid- 
air, and  the  whole  Duxbury  coast,  which  is  low 
and  sandy,  seemed  lined  with  high  white  cliffs. 
The  illusion  was  perfect.  The  shores  drew  near 
and  the  bay  contracted.  On  the  low  flat  line  of 
beach  between  the  Gurnet  and  Saquish,  a  stretch 
of  bare  sand,  a  town  with  spires  and  tall  trees  was 
plainly  visible. 

'T  was  like  a  city  of  enchantment,  an  Arabian 
Nights  city,  Suzette  declared  ;  like  the  famous 
palace  of  Aladdin  that  sprang  into  being  in  a 
night,  and  it  seemed  to  vanish  almost  as  quickly, 
for,  while  they  were  looking  and  exclaiming,  it 
dissolved  and  was  gone. 

"  I  never  see  that  before,"  said  Teddy.  "  I  've 
seen  ships  sail  in  the  air,  but  I  never  see  buildings 
an'  trees  over  there.  There  ain't  none  —  only 
sand." 

Nearly  all  the  forenoon  the  mirage  returned  at 
intervals,  and  to  watch  it  was  like  watching  the 
changing  scenes  of  a  pantomime.  And,  as  they 
talked  and  looked,  Suzette  went  on  with  her 
history  lesson.  She  was  telling  about  certain 
things  that  happened  in  1623. 

This  year  had  opened  disastrously  for  the 
Pilgrims.  Their  good  Squanto  had  died  late  in 


THE  SAD    GLAD    YEAR    OF   1623.  2<X) 

the  previous  year,  while  on  an  expedition  with 
Governor  Bradford  for  the  buying  of  corn  from 
the  Indians.  For  corn  was  again  scarce,  and  of 
bread  they  had  little  or  none.  With  all  Squan- 
to's  instructions,  they  had  not  as  yet  become 
sufficiently  well  acquainted  with  the  management 
of  Indian  corn  to  raise  it  with  any  great  success. 

This  expedition  had  sailed  up  and  down  the 
shores  of  Cape  Cod,  and  had  been  greatly  bothered 
in  the  management  of  their  boat  by  the  shallows 
and  breakers.  And  what  was  still  worse  they 
had  succeeded  in  buying  but  little  corn.  The  In- 
dians themselves  did  not  have  large  supplies  of  it. 
They  were  never  what  we  in  New  England  call 
"  fore-handed  "  folk.  They  did  not  trouble  them- 
selves much  about  a  supply  for  the  future.  They 
were  accustomed  to  scant  rations,  and  trusted  a 
good  deal  to  chance  in  securing  what  they  needed. 

Their  implements  of  agriculture,  if  they  can  be 
said  to  have  had  any,  were  of  the  rudest  kind. 
Their  hoes  were  of  stone,  fastened  to  a  wooden 
handle.  With  such  a  primitive  affair,  the  Indian 
squaw  slightly  scratched  the  earth,  dropped  in  her 
corn  and  herring,  covered  them  up,  and  her  planting 
was  done.  They  raised  more  corn,  we  are  told, 
after  they  had  the  English  "  hows  "  (hoes). 


2IO         LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

A  second  equally  unsuccessful  expedition  was 
sent  into  the  interior,  in  search  of  corn,  in  March, 
1623. 

It  was  also  in  the  latter  part  of  1622  and 
beginning  of  1623  that  the  great  conspiracy  was 
formed  among  the  Indians,  of  which  Massasoit 
told  Hobomock,  as  related  in  a  previous  chapter. 
They  crushed  the  conspiracy,  and,  as  we  read  in 
that  same  chapter,  finally  got  rid  of  the  settlers  at 
Wessagussett,  who  were  the  main  cause  of  it. 

These  colonists  were  Thomas  Weston's  men, 
and  shortly  after  Myles  Standish  had  seen  them 
off,  Weston  himself  arrived  at  Plymouth  in  a 
wretched  plight.  He  had  left  his  vessel  and  gone 
out  exploring  in  a  small  boat,  and  was  cast  ashore 
in  a  heavy  storm,  somewhere  between  the  Mer- 
rimack  and  Piscataqua  rivers.  The  Indians  had 
robbed  him  of  everything,  but  he  had  borrowed 
a  suit  of  clothes  from  some  settlers  in  that  neigh- 
borhood, and  then  made  his  way  to  Plymouth  to 
ask  aid  from  the  Pilgrims. 

His  feelings  towards  them  were  not  of  the 
friendliest,  but  he  dissembled,  and  begged  them 
to  help  him.  Would  they  lend  him  a  certain 
number  of  beaver-skins  ?  He  was  expecting  a  ship 
soon  with  supplies,  and  he  could  then  repay  them. 


THE  SAD    GLAD    YEAR   OF  1623.  2 1  I 

There  were  many  and  good  reasons  why  they 
should  not  make  him  the  loan,  and  they  trusted 
little  in  his  promise  to  supply  their  needs  when  his 
ship  arrived. 

"  We  gave  little  credit  to  his  supply,"  writes 
Bradford,  but  "  we  helped  him  when  all  the  world 
failed  him." 

They  loaned  him  the  skins  from  their  scanty 
store,  and  he  repaid  them  as  the  viper  repaid  the 
man  in  the  fable,  who  had  warmed  him  in  his 
bosom. 

The  scarcity  of  corn  in  the  spring  of  1623  led 
the  leaders  to  consult  how  they  best  might  secure 
a  greater  crop.  It  was  plain  that,  in  order  to  have 
a  great  crop,  a  great  deal  of  ground  must  be 
planted.  Up  to  that  time  they  had  planted  their 
fields  in  common,  sharing  alike  in  the  harvest. 
This  had  been  in  accordance  with  the  agreement 
made  with  the  company  of  Adventurers  to  Ply- 
mouth, who  had  helped  them  to  come  over. 

But  they  felt  that  if  each  family  could  have  a 
parcel  of  ground  of  its  own  to  plant,  of  which  they 
only  should  have  the  produce,  they  would  go  to 
work  with  greater  zest  than  when  their  labor  went 
into  the  common  fund.  The  result  proved  the 
wisdom  of  the  leaders.  A  parcel  of  ground  was 


212         LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

allotted  to  each  family,  and  they  went  to  work 
with  a  will.  Not  only  the  men  of  the  families 
worked,  but  the  women,  for  the  first  time,  went 
into  the  fields  to  assist.  The  children  too  helped, 
even  the  smallest,  who  at  least  could  drop  the 
corn. 

';  And  I  wonder  if  they  said  :  — 

One  for  the  blackbird, 

One  for  the  crow, 
Two  for  the  cut-worm 

And  three  to  let  grow," 
said  Suzette. 

"  Seven  kernels  in  a  hill  was  a  tremendous 
waste,  if  they  did,"  remarked  Russell.  "  For  if 
the  cut-worm  and  crow  and  blackbird  did  n't  take 
'em,  they  would  have  to  be  pulled  up.  That 
would  be  bad  political  economy." 

The  result  of  this  added  industry  was  that  a 
much  larger  quantity  of  corn  was  planted  than  in 
either  of  the  two  previous  years. 

By  the  time  their  planting  was  done,  however, 
their  supply  of  corn  for  bread  was  entirely  gone, 
and  they  could  only  rest,  as  they  said,  on  God's 
providence,  not  knowing  at  night  what  they  would 
have  to  eat  on  the  morrow,  or  whether  they 
would  have  anything  to  eat  at  all.  And  so 


THE  SAD    GLAD    YEAR    OF  1623.  213 

"  above  all  people  in  the  world  they  had  need  to 
pray  'Give  us  this  day  our  daily  bread.'  " 

But  they  did  not  sit  down  and  wait  for  food  to 
come  to  them.  They  were  men  of  the  same 
stamp  as  Oliver  Cromwell,  whose  famous  order  to 
his  soldiers  is  so  familiar :  "  Trust  in  God  and 
keep  your  powder  dry."  They  trusted  in  God  to 
supply  them,  but  at  the  same  time  they  used 
every  method  to  procure  food. 

They  had  but  one  boat,  and  that  not  a  good 
one,  but  they  fitted  her  up  as  well  as  they  could, 
and  then  divided  their  men  into  companies  of  six 
or  seven,  each  of  whom  were  to  go  out  in  their 
turn  to  fish.  No  sooner  did  the  boat  with  one 
company  come  in  and  discharge  her  supply  of  fish, 
than  another  took  her  and  went  directly  out  again. 
They  stayed  till  they  had  a  full  supply,  if  it  was 
for  several  days.  Those  left  behind  went  out  on 
the  flats  at  low  tide  and  dug  clams  for  food. 

Occasionally  a  deer  was  brought  in,  but  autumn 
and  winter  were  the  seasons  for  deer  and  wild 
fowl. 

All  this  story  sounds  like  that  of  the  manna  in 
the  wilderness  and  seems  almost  if  not  quite  as 
wonderful.  Certainly  their  daily  food  came  as 
directly  from  the  hand  of  that  God  in  whom  they 


214         LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

trusted  as  did  the  manna  which  the  Israelites 
gathered  each  morning,  or  the  quails  that  came  up 
and  covered  their  camp. 

In  the  latter  part  of  June  a  vessel  stopped  in 
their  harbor,  the  master  of  which  had  two  hogs- 
heads of  pease  for  sale.  The  Pilgrims  desired  to 
buy  them ;  but  seeing  their  necessities,  he  put  up 
the  price  to  £g  ($45)  for  the  two.  After  con- 
siderable bartering  he  consented  to  take  ,£8, 
but  not  one  penny  less,  and  the  beaver-skins  he 
was  to  have  in  return  he  insisted  upon  having 
under  price.  They  refused  to  be  cheated  after 
this  audacious  fashion,  however,  and  told  him  they 
"  had  lived  so  long  without  his  pease  and  could  do 
so  still,"  whereat  he  betook  himself  and  his  pease 
to  Virginia. 

"  Where,"  remarked  Suzette,  "  I  always  hoped 
he  had  to  sell  them  at  a  loss." 

"  I  should  hope  so,  the  mean  fellow ! "  said 
Russell ;  "  trying  to  make  a  corner  on  pease  when 
they  were  almost  starving." 

"  Then,  "  Suzette  went  on,  "  something  nice  hap- 
pened. The  ship  Anne  came  in,  and  a  few  days 
after  a  little  vessel  which  they  called  a  'pinass.' 
Its  name  was  The  Little  James,  and  it  was  sent  for 
them  to  keep  to  go  a-coasting  in.  It  was  new 


THE   SAD   GLAD    YEAR    OF   1623.  215 

and  fitted  out  with  flags  and  streamers  and  pen- 
nants, and  must  have  looked  very  pretty  coming 
round  Beach  Point  and  up  the  channel.  I  should 
n't  wonder  one  bit  if  some  of  the  Pilgrim  boys 
and  girls  came  up  and  watched  her  coming  in 
from  this  very  spot." 

It  was  such  remarks  as  these  from  Suzette  that 
made  the  story  so  "real,"  said  Russell.  "It's 
such  a  capital  way  to  study  history.  They  do 
contrive  to*  make  it  so  awfully  dry  in  school." 

"That's  so!"  said  Teddy,  with  such  hearty 
good-will,  that  Russell,  who  was  lying  on  the  turf 
near  him,  gave  him  a  rousing  slap  on  the  back. 

"  I  see  you  know  all  about  it,"  said  he.  "  But 
say,  would  n't  it  be  a  capital  way  to  study  history 
to  go  round  and  learn  it  on  the  spot  ?  Whenever 
I  hear  about  the  Pilgrims  after  this,  I  shall  just  see 
it  all,  you  know." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  replied  Suzette.  "  And  papa  says,  in 
a  year  or  two  perhaps,  he  will  take  us  to  the  old 
Pilgrim  homes  in  England  and  Holland.  Mamma 
wants  to  go  to  her  old  home  in  France,  and  we 
can  go  that  way." 

"  Oh  !  that  would  be  no  end  jolly,"  was  Russell's 
comment. 

Well,  in  the  Anne  came  sixty  additional   colo- 


2l6        LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

nists,  and  among  them  were  the  wives  and  children 
of  some  of  the  Mayflower  Pilgrims.  The  meet- 
ing between  these  who  had  been  so  long  separated 
must  have  been  a  happy  one,  though  they  arrived 
at  a  time  when  there  was  great  destitution.  The 
best  we  could  give  them,  writes  Bradford,  was  a 
lobster  or  a  piece  of  fish,  for  there  was  no  bread 
nor  anything  else,  but  a  cup  of  "fair  spring 
water." 

These  colonists  were  not  all  true  Pilgrims. 
Many  of  them  had  come  to  settle  in  the  neighbor- 
hood of  Plymouth,  on  "their  own  particulers,"  as 
they  quaintly  phrase  it  :  that  is,  they  were  to  be 
in  some  ways  independent  of  the  Pilgrims.  And 
I  think  it  must  have  been  some  of  these  who,  we 
are  told,  wished  themselves  back  in  England 
when  they  saw  the  poverty  of  the  people.  It 
could  not  have  been  the  wives  and  children  of 
those  Mayflower  Pilgrims,  though  they  may  have 
wept,  as  the  chronicle  says  some  did,  when  they 
saw  the  destitution  of  their  dear  friends,  their 
toil-worn,  weather-beaten  faces,  and  their  shabby 
clothes. 

There  was  one  however,  who,  we  may  be  sure, 
did  not  wish  to  go  back,  and  that  was  Mistress 
Alice  Southworth,  the  second  wife  of  Governor 
1 


THE  SAD   GLAD   YEAR   OF  1623.  217 

Bradford,  concerning  whom  and  himself  there  is 
a  bit  of  romance.  They  loved  each  other  when 
they  were  young  in  England,  but  were  not  per- 
mitted to  marry.  Now  she  had  come  to  him  at 
his  desire,  and  they  were  married  two  weeks  after 
the  arrival  of  the  Anne. 

On  this  same  vessel  came  also  a  boy  named 
Nathaniel  Morton.  He  was  twelve  years  old,  and 
we  can  easily  imagine  'with  what  eager  eyes  he 
must  have  scanned  the  group  of  houses  nestling 
upon  the  hillside  under  shelter  of  the  fort,  as  the 
Anne  sailed  into  the  harbor  and  dropped  anchor. 
The  sight  of  the  shabby  clothes,  the  fish  proffered 
without  bread,  would  not  discourage  him.  He 
would  be  thinking  of  the  partridges  to  be  trapped 
in  the  woods,  of  the  strange  Indians  of  whom  he 
had  read,  of  the  delight  of  living  in  a  country  full 
of  fresh,  new  things.  This  boy  grew  up  to  be 
Secretary  of  the  colony  and  the  compiler  of  the 
Memorials  of  New  England. 

"  It  seems  good  to  hear  about  a  boy  once  in  a 
while,"  said  Russell  at  this  point  in  the  narrative. 
"You'd  think  to  read  history  that  there  didn't 
use  to  be  any  boys,  except  boy-kings.  Now,  for 
my  part,  I  should  like  to  know  what  the  boys  and 
girls  have  been  doing  all  these  years  since  the 


2l8         LITTLE   PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

world  began.  We  never  hear  anything  about  them 
till  they  're  grown  up." 

"There's  George  Washington,  he" — began 
Dick,  but  Russell  interrupted  him  with,  "  Oh,  that 
old  axe  story !  Don't,  for  pity's  sake,  mention 
that.  But,  I  say,  it  always  seemed  to  me  that 
Washington  was  a  hundred  years  old  when  he  was 
born." 

"That's  just  what  uncle  Tom  says,"  replied 
Suzette.  "  He  says  he  used  to  think  the  Pilgrims 
were  all  old  men  just  like  Elder  Brewster  in  the 
picture  at  Pilgrim  Hall,  and  he  was  surprised  when 
he  found  out  Edward  Winslow  was  only  twenty- 
six  and  Governor  Bradford  somewhere  about  thirty 
when  they  came  over.  He  says  he  is  glad  Dick 
and  I  were  taught  differently.  Why,  they  always 
seem  to  me  just  like  papa,  straight,  you  know,  and 
with  bright,  pleasant  eyes,  and  plenty  of  brown 
hair,  and  laughing  just  as  he  laughs,  as  though 
they  were  so  happy  they  could  n't  help  it,  and  all 
the  children  running  to  them  and  taking  their 
hands,  and  always  so  kind  and  loving  and  true. 
That 's  what  /think  the  Pilgrims  were  like.  Like 
Sir  Galahad  and  Hector  and  Ivanhoe,  you  know." 

About  the  time  of  the  arrival  of  the  Anne,  great 
fears  had  begun  to  be  entertained  lest  their  crop 


THE  SAD   GLAD    YEAR    OF   1623. 

of  Indian  corn  should  be  a  failure.  After  the  corn 
was  well  up  and  growing,  in  the  third  week  in 
May  a  drought  set  in,  which,  up  to  the  middle  of 
July,  had  not  been  broken  by  so  much  as  one 
shower. 

Day  after  day  the  sun  rose  and  set  in  a  cloud- 
less sky,  and  under  its  intense  heat  the  corn 
drooped,  wilted,  and  in  many  fields  died.  In  this 
extremity  they  resolved  to  set  apart  a  day  of 
prayer  and  fasting  in  which  they  would  especially 
entreat  the  good  God  to  send  them  rain  for  their 
crops,  lest  they  should  altogether  faint  and  die. 

Their  Indian  friend,  Hobomock,  was  greatly  dis- 
tressed concerning  them.  "  I  am  much  troubled 
for  the  English,"  he  said,  "  for  I  am  afraid  they 
will  lose  all  their  corn  by  the  drought,  and  so  they 
will  all  be  starved  ;  as  for  the  Indians  they  can 
shift  better  than  the  English,  for  they  can  get  fish 
for  themselves." 

So  the  day  of  prayer  was  appointed,  and  they 
all  came  up,  men,  women,  and  little  children,  to 
their  meeting-house  on  the  hill,  with  its  cannon 
on  top,  and  which  they  had  built  the  year  previ- 
ous, and  there  they  held  their  long  service  of 
eight  hours. 

The  sun  had  arisen  that  morning  in  a  clear  sky, 


22O         LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

as  usual,  and  through  the  early  part  of  the  day 
not  a  cloud  was  to  be  seen,  and  it  was  intensely 
hot. 

The  Indians  who  were  in  the  town  wondered  at 
the  holding  of  this  week-day  service.  "  For  it  is 
only  three  days  since  Sunday,"  they  said.  It  was 
explained  to  them  that  the  people  were  praying  to 
their  God  that  he  would  send  them  rain  for  their 
thirsty  and  dying  corn,  and  they  waited  with  curi- 
osity to  see  whether  the  Englishman's  God  would 
hear  and  answer. 

"  And  He  was  pleased  to  give  them  a  gracious 
and  speedy  answer,"  says  Bradford.  Towards 
evening  the  sky  began  to  be  overcast,  and, 
shortly  after,  the  rain  came  in  "sweet  and  gentle  " 
showers.  It  came  without  wind  or  thunder  or 
any  other  violence,  and  by  degrees  in  greater 
abundance  so  the  earth  was  thoroughly  wet,  and 
it  was  hard  to  say,  writes  Edward  Winslow, 
"  whether  our  withered  corn  or  our  drooping  affec- 
tions were  more  quickened  and  revived." 

The  Indians  marveled  when  they  saw  this  rain, 
and  Hobomock  said  :  "  Now  I  see  English  man's 
God  is  a  good  God,  for  he  hath  heard  you  and  sent 
you  rain,  and  that  without  storms  and  tempests  and 
thunders,  which  usually  -we  have  with  our  rain, 


THE   SAD    GLAD    YEAR    OF   7623.  221 

which  breaks  down  our  corn  ;  but  yours  stands 
whole  and  good  still.  Surely  your  God  is  a  good 
God." 

The  drooping  corn  revived,  there  was  an  abun- 
dant harvest,  and  in  due  time  they  set  apart  their 
Thanksgiving  day. 

The  four  were  silent  for  a  short  space  after 
Suzette  had  finished  her  story  of  the  drought  and 
the  day  of  fasting.  They  were  doubtless  think- 
ing of  the  little  band  here  in  the  wilderness  with 
dying  crops  and  scant  resources  of  food ;  though 
nothing  could  be  farther  from  one's  idea  of  a  wil- 
derness to-day  than  these  lovely  shores  with  their 
graceful  outlines,  and  the  houses  gathered  together 
in  town  and  hamlet,  or  standing  singly  amid  smil- 
ing fields. 

It  was  then  that  Russell  broke  the  silence  with 
the  words  with  which  this  chapter  begins.  And 
the  very  expression,  "plucky  fellows,"  shows  how 
realistic  Suzette's  narrative  had  been,  and  how 
thoroughly  he  felt  that  he  had  been  listening  to 
the  story  of  the  lives  of  real  men. 

"  I  must  tell  you  the  fate  of  the  gay  little  'pinass,' 
The  Little  James"  said  Suzette,  re-taking  the 
thread  of  her  story.  "  She  was  sent  first  around 
the  Cape  to  trade  with  the  Narragansetts,  but  as 


222         LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

those  who  went  in  her  had  only  a  few  beads  and 
knives  to  trade  with,  they  did  not  get  many  skins. 
And,  as  they  were  coming  back,  just  out  there  by 
Brown's  Island,  — you  can  see  the  breakers  when 
it  is  a  little  rough,  — just  there  they  were  over- 
taken by  a  storm  and  had  to  cut  away  the  mast  to 
keep  from  being  driven  right  onto  the  shoals. 

"  Then  of  course  they  had  to  mend  her,  which 
cost  a  good  deal.  (Is  n't  it  droll  that  her  name 
should  be  James  and  we  should  say  '  she '  ?)  And 
then  they  sent  her  down  to  the  coast  of  Maine 
fishing.  But  there  she  did  n't  fare  any  better. 
She  was  in  a  safe  harbor  with  other  vessels  when 
a  great  storm  arose  and  the  waves  came  in  where 
they  never  came  in  before,  and  drove  her  on  the 
rocks  and  beat  a  big  hole  in  her,  big  enough  for  a 
horse  and  cart  to  drive  through,  Governor  Brad- 
ford said.  And  then  she  sunk  and  they  let  her 
be  for  a  while. 

"But  they  thought  it  a  pity  such  a  fine 'vessel 
should  be  left  to  come  to  pieces  in  the  water,  so 
they  got  her  out  and  refitted  her  again,  and  sent 
her  back  to  England,  for  she  was  altogether  too 
expensive  an  affair  for  such  poor  folks  to  keep." 

By  the  end  of  1624  the  seven  houses  of  Ply- 
mouth had  increased  to  about  thirty,  and  the 


THE  SAD    GLAD    YEAR   OF  1623.  22$ 

colonists  had  not  only  cattle  and  goats,  but  swine 
and  poultry.  So  they  could  have  apple-slump  with 
cream,  as  well  as  furmenty  and  plum  pudding,  at 
their  Thanksgiving  dinner  of  that  year. 


CHAPTER    XV. 


THE    LITTLE    GRANDMOTHER  S    RIDE. 

Into  the  tranquil  woods,  where  bluebirds  and  robins  are  building 
Towns  in  the  populous  trees  with  hanging  gardens  of  verdure  — 
Peaceful,  aerial  cities  of  joy  and  affection  and  freedom. 

—  Longfellow. 

OOMETHING  more  about  my  good  grancl- 
*-^  mother,  pussy  ?  She  was  your  great-grand- 
mother as  well,  and  you  sometimes  remind  me 
of  her  in  the  straight  look  of  your  eyes  and  in 
other  little  ways,  although  you  do  not  really 
resemble  her  in  feature. 

"  She  had  keen  black  eyes  that  found  out  all 
your  secrets,  no  matter  if  Chatty  had  dried  all 
your  clothes  when  you  tumbled  into  the  ditch 
going  where  you  had  no  business  to  go.  And  if 
you  had  a  bad  pain  from  eating  green  apples,  which 
were  forbidden,  no  matter  how  hard  you  might  try 
to  conceal  it,  she  knew  all  about  it. 

"  Perhaps  it  was  because  she  loved  mischief 
herself  when  she  was  a  girl  and  so  knew  all  the 
outs  and  ins  of  mischievous  boys  and  girls.  I  am 
224 


THE  LITTLE    GRANDMOTHER'S  RIDE.      22$ 

inclined  to  think  from  what  I  have  heard  her  say 
that  her  mother  held  the  reins  pretty  tightly,  too 
tightly  perhaps,  so  that  her  young  colts  could  n't 
help  kicking  out  their  heels  and  running  away 
occasionally.  My  grandfather's  principle  of  gov- 
ernment was  to  keep  the  reins  in  his  hands  but 
give  young  things  their  heads,  and  only  rein  them 
in  when  they  were  running  headlong  into  mischief, 
which  is  better  I  think. 

"  I  remember  hearing  her  tell  a  story,  indeed,  I 
heard  her  tell  it  a  good  many  times,  for  it  was  a 
favorite  with  Pen  —  a  story  about  a  silk  gown  her 
father  bought  for  her  when  she  was  quite  a  girl, 
sixteen  perhaps.  It  was  her  first  one,  and  a  silk 
gown  was  a  rare  treasure  in  those  days,  something 
to  be  carefully  put  by  and  worn  only  on  the  most 
extraordinary  occasions. 

"  This  one  was  folded  in  linen  and  laid  away  in 
a  deep  drawer  with  lavender  from  the  garden. 
Soon  after  its  purchase  her  particular  crony  was 
to  give  a  party  on  her  birthday,  to  which  all  the 
young  people  were  to  be  invited ;  and  among  the 
rest,  our  little  grandmother  of  course.  Her  name 
was  Molly,  and  we  will  call  her  Molly,  our  little, 
young  grandmother. 

"  Well,  Molly  ventured  to  hint  to  her  somewhat 


226         LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

stern  mother  that  she  would  like  to  wear  the  new 
silk  ;  it  was  brocade,  I  think,  of  a  delicate  laven- 
der and  pink.  But  she  was  promptly  bidden  to 
put  away  all  such  extravagant  and  improper  ideas 
from  her  mind.  Her  white  lawn  was  the  only 
thing  proper  for  the  occasion,  her  mother  said,  and 
an  obedient  and  good  child  would  never  give  a 
second  thought  to  a  thing  her  mother  had 
forbidden  her. 

"  But  Molly,  I  'm  afraid,  pussy,  did  what  we  are 
all  so  inclined  to  do.  Instead  of  saying  to  the 
tempter,  '  Get  thee  behind  me,'  and  giving  him  a 
good  cuff,  as  it  were,  she  invited  him  to  come  a 
little  nearer,  by  many  a  little  sneaking  thought  of 
how  pretty  she  would  look  in  the  new  silk,  how  she 
would  outshine  all  the  other  girls,  how  unreason- 
able her  mother  was,  and  so  on  and  so  on.  And 
she  even  had  the  temerity  to  further  invite  him  by 
unlocking  the  drawer,  —  the  key  being  one  of  those 
attached  to  her  mother's  chatelaine,  but  which  she 
had  left  by  accident  hanging  from  another  drawer 
in  the  great  carved  chest, — by  unlocking  the 
drawer  in  which  the  much-desired  gown  was  kept, 
turning  back  the  linen  cover,  touching  the  soft, 
shining  silk,  and  lifting  the  lovely  blonde  lace 
encircling  the  low  neck  and  short  puffed  sleeves. 


THE  LITTLE    GRANDMOTHER'S  RIDE.      227 

How  irresistible  it  was  !  and  how  Molly  did  wish 
she  could  wear  it  to  that  party !  Naughty  little 
grandmother !  And  she  then  and  there  resolved 
she  would  wear  it,  for  she  had  a  daring  soul,  our 
little  grandmother. 

"Then  she  went  over  and  confided  her  deter- 
mination to  'Tenty  Richmond  —  'Tenty  being 
short  for  Content  —  and  'Tenty  encouraged  her 
in  her  wilfulness,  and  suggested  a  plan  for  circum- 
venting Molly's  mother  on  the  instant,  a  plan  that 
did  much  credit  to  'Tenty's  strategical  abilities. 
But  you  may  be  sure,  pussy,  they  kept  this  plan 
carefully  from  'Tenty's  mother. 

"The  plan  was  that  Molly  should  smuggle  the 
gown  over  into  'Tenty's  bedroom  the  afternoon 
before  the  party  ;  that  Molly  should  dress  in  the 
white  lawn,  come  over  and  change  it  for  the  silk  ; 
then  when  the  party  was  over,  she  could  resume 
the  white  lawn,  go  home,  and  show  herself  to  her 
mother,  and  smuggle  batck  the  pink  and  lavender 
silk  the  next  day. 

"  An  admirable  plan,  as  you  see,  without  a  weak 
spot  in  it !  But  alas  !  pussy,  you  know  what 
Robbie  Burns  says  about  the  'best-laid  plans  of 
mice  and  men,'  and  how  they  come  out.  And  it 's 
equally  true  of  the  schemes  of  young  lasses  when 


228         LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

they  try  to  outwit  their  mothers.  'Tenty's  plan 
worked  very  well  up  to  a  certain  point.  The  gown 
was  safely  smuggled  over  into  'Tenty's  bedroom. 
Molly  was  dressed  by  her  mother  in  the  pretty 
white  lawn.  She  looked  very  pretty,  I  suspect, 
though  her  good  mother  would  not  be  likely  to  tell 
her  so.  She  would  be  much  more  likely  to  repeat 
that  time-honored  aphorism,  '  Handsome  is  that 
handsome  does.' 

"Then  she  went  over  to  'Tenty's  bedroom, 
where  the  pretty  pink  and  lavender  brocade  lay 
upon  the  little  white  bed,  shining  wonderfully  in 
the  dim  light  of  the  one  candle.  She  quickly  ex- 
changed the  lawn  for  it,  'Tenty  assisting  at  the 
toilet  and  declaring  that  she  looked  beautifully  in 
it.  Everybody  admired  it  and  her  when  she  went 
down  into  the  parlor ;  and  for  an  hour  or  so 
things  went  on  swimmingly  until  they  betook 
themselves  to  a  large,  unfurnished  room  where 
they  were  to  dance. 

"  Molly  was  standing  at  the  head  of  her  set,  the 
'cynosure  of  neighboring  eyes,'  as  Mr.  Milton 
says,  when  some  one  espied  a  small  liquid  stream 
dribbling  down  from  a  crack  in  the  wooden  ceiling 
directly  upon  the  skirt  of  her  beautiful  gown.  It 
was  'Tenty  who  sprang  forward  with  a  cry  of  an- 


THE  LITTLE    GRANDMOTHER'S  RIDE.      2  29 

guish,  '  O  Molly ! '  and  drew  her  away.  But  it 
was  too  late.  The  stream  was  of  oil,  and  the 
beautiful  gown  was,  to  all  appearance,  ruined. 

"Ah,  then  and  there  was  hurrying  to  and  fro, 
and  towels  were  brought,  and  the  oil  was  sopped, 
and  the  gown  was  rubbed,  while  Molly  stood  silent 
and  pale  with  dismay,  the  one  thought  in  her  mind 
being  what  her  mother  would  say  and  do ;  and 
'Tenty's  brother  went  up  into  the  chamber  to  stop 
the  stream  of  oil  before  it  spoiled  any  more  toilets, 
and  to  ascertain  its  source. 

"  He  found  there  an  imbecile  boy  of  the  neigh- 
borhood who,  poor  creature,  spent  his  time  in 
doing  mischief,  and  was  deliberately  pouring  the 
oil  down. 

"  Well,  Molly's  pleasure  for  that  evening  was  at 
an  end,  and  she  withdrew  to  'Tenty's  bedroom, 
and  nothing  would  induce  her  to  come  out  again, 
though  the  girls  came  and  said,  '  I  would  n't  let  it 
spoil  the  evening,  Molly.  It  is  n't  like  you  to  feel 
so  badly  over  a  spoiled  gown.'  But  they  didn't 
know  about  the  spoiled  plan,  of  course.  And  when 
the  time  came  to  go,  she  put  on  the  white  lawn, 
and  went  home  and  showed  herself  to  her  mother 
in  it,  and  then  went  sorrowfully  to  bed. 

"  She   did  n't    sleep   much  that  night,   and  the 


230         LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

next  day,  after  her  spinning  stent  was  done,  she 
went  over,  ostensibly  to  talk  the  party  over  with 
'Tenty,  but  really  to  consult  with  her  as  to  what 
could  be  done  with  the  gown.  The  oil  had  badly 
streaked  two  whole  breadths.  They  could  think 
of  nothing  to  do,  and  at  last,  in  sheer  despair, 
they  took  'Tenty's  mother  into  their  confidence. 
She  thought  magnesia  might  take  out  the  oil,  but 
it  would  be  a  matter  of  weeks,  and  she  advised 
that  Molly's  mother  should  be  told. 

"  This  advice  coincided  with  the  suggestions  of 
Molly's  conscience,  and,  taking  the  gown  in  her 
hand,  she  went  home  and,  standing  humbly  before 
her  mother,  confessed  her  naughtiness,  making  a 
clean  breast  of  it  and  not  sparing  herself,  and 
was  condemned  to  one  day's  solitary  imprison- 
ment in  the  spare  bed-chamber  with  bread  and 
water  only  to  eat. 

"  She  always  told  us  she  should  n't  have  minded 
the  solitary  imprisonment  so  much,  if  she  could 
only  have  stayed  in  her  own  cheerful  bedroom 
instead  of  in  the  great  dismal  spare  bed-chamber, 
with  its  huge  and  ghostly  tent  bedstead.  It  was 
never  opened  more  than  two  or  three  times  a  year 
for  some  guest  of  extraordinary  importance.  There 
were  other  bedrooms  for  lesser  guests.  She  was 


THE  LITTLE  GRANDMOTHER'S  RIDE.      23! 

permitted  to  have  one  of  the  thick  green  shades  at 
the  windows  drawn  up  to  the  height  of  the  first 
row  of  small  window  panes.  That  was  all.  The 
corners  were  in  shadow,  and  a  nervous  person 
would  have  found  it  all  unbearable.  But  our  little 
grandmother,  luckily  for  her,  was  not  a  nervous 
person. 

"  She  was  permitted  to  have  no  book  and  no 
work,  not  even  her  knitting.  She  might  have 
smuggled  some  in,  I  suppose,  but  she  had  got 
enough  of  smuggling.  And  she  said  she  sat  and 
watched  a  spider  spinning  a  net  over  one  of  the 
window-panes  for  the  greater  part  of  the  day. 
By-and-by  the  only  fly  in  the  room  got  entangled 
in  it.  She  said  that  experience  ever  after  made 
her  interested  in  the  ways  of  spiders  and  all  other 
insects.  She  was  n't  the  kind  of  girl  to  shriek  and 
run  away  at  sight  of  a  spider,  any  way.  She 
became  in  time  quite  a  naturalist  and  could  have 
written  as  delightful  a  book  about  the  dwellers  in 
her  garden  as  the  most  learned  of  them  all." 

"  But  was  the  gown  spoiled  ? "  asked  Suzette, 
who  had  been  listening  with  delight  to  this  story 
about  her  little  great-grandmother  and  thinking 
what  a  delightful  story-teller  was  uncle  Tom ;  quite 
equal  to  Scheherezade. 


232         LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

"  It  was  laid  away  in  magnesia,  and  that  and 
time  together  finally  did  the  business  and  took  out 
the  oil.  Molly  could  never  endure  the  sight  of  it 
afterwards,  and  always  wore  it  under  protest,  as  it 
were.  Years  after,  it  was  converted  into  a  cover- 
let which  I  believe  aunt  Pen  has,  at  this  very 
time,  packed  away  in  some  secret  lavender-scented 
old  cabinet." 

"  Poor  little  grandmother !  it  was  hard  to  be 
shut  up  on  bread  and  water,"  said  Suzette. 

"But  salutary,"  rejoined  uncle  Tom.  "She 
herself  always  said  she  deserved  it." 

"But  this  was  not  what  I  began  to  tell  you, 
pussy,"  uncle  Tom  went  on.  "  I  want  to  tell  you 
another  story  I  often  heard  from  my  grandmother 
and  which  is  connected  with  Plymouth  itself. 
She  was  a  little  older  when  that  took  place  ;  in 
fact,  I  think  it  was  the  very  year  after  the  gown 
affair.  And  we  will  still  call  her  Molly,  and  think 
of  her  with  sunny  eyes  and  a  face  free  from  care, 
instead  of  the  white-haired  though  beautiful  old 
gentlewoman  she  was  when  I  saw  her  last. 

"  I  remember  how,  that  last  time,  she  went  over 
the  incidents  of  this  story,  for,  like  all  very  old 
people,  —  she  was  in  her  ninety-fourth  year,  —  she 
was  fond  of  recalling  her  far-away  youth,  as  you 


THE  LITTLE    GRANDMOTHER'S  RIDE.     233 

and  I  shall  be  when  our  hair  is  white,  pussy.  I 
had  gone  up  to  see  her,  for  she  had  written  to  me 
that  she  was  not  well  and  thought  her  time  was 
drawing  near.  There  was  nothing  I  could  do  for 
her,  however,  for  she  was  simply  about  to  fall  as 
the  ripened  grain  does,  under  the  sickle  of  the 
reaper. 

"  I  spent  a  long  summer's  afternoon  with  her, 
and  she  told  over  many  of  the  stories  she  had  told 
Pen  and  me  so  many,  many  times,  when  we  were 
girl  and  boy  and  had  come  up  to  spend  our 
vacation  at  the  dear  old  farm. 

"  Molly  had  a  good  education  for  her  day,  though 
it  would  seem  very  narrow  to  the  college-bred  girl 
of  the  present.  But  girls,  eighty  and  even  forty 
years  ago,  had  no  such  advantages  of  schools  as 
the  girls  of  to-day  have.  It  is  n't  but  about  a 
hundred  years,  or  a  little  less,  since  the  question 
came  up  in  the  Plymouth  town-meeting  whether 
girls  should  be  schooled  at  the  expense  of  the  state 
as  boys  were.  It  was  finally  voted,  after  a  good 
deal  of  discussion,  that  they  should  have  one 
hour's  instruction  after  the  boys  had  got  through. 
One  objection  brought  by  an  opponent  was  that 
he,  for  one,  did  not  want  a  woman  looking  over 
his  shoulder  when  he  was  writing  and  telling  him 


234         LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

how  to  spell.  From  which  I  infer  that  there  were 
women  in  his  day  who  did  n't  know  how  to  spell. 

"  But  Molly  not  only  learned  to  spell,  but  to 
read,  and  let  me  tell  you,  pussy,  when  a  boy  or 
girl  has  learned  to  read,  he  or  she  is  far  on  the 
road  to  a  liberal  education.  Molly  was  also  taught 
arithmetic  as  far  as  the  rule  of  three,  together 
with  a  little  geography,  and,  crowning  achieve- 
ment !  she  even  received  instruction  in  English 
grammar,  upon  which  acquisition  both  she  and 
her  mother  greatly  prided  themselves.  For 
English  grammar  was  considered  as  far  beyo'nd 
the  scope  of  the  average  female  mind,  and 
Molly  was  the  only  girl  of  her  generation  in 
Halifax  who  had  studied  it.  She  was  able  to 
name  the  moods  and  tenses,  the  nouns  and 
pronouns,  to  know  a  conjunction  when  she  saw 
it ;  in  short,  she  could  parse  fluently.  Do  you 
know  how  to  parse,  pussy  ?  " 

Suzette  looked  slightly  bewildered.  "  No,  I 
don't  believe  I  do,  uncle  Tom,"  she  said. 

"Lucky  girl!"  replied  uncle  Tom.  "Our  grand- 
mother was  always  very  fond  of  compliments  on 
her  pure  English  —  it  was  her  one  and  only  weak 
point  so  far  as  I  know.  But  I  am  inclined  to 
think  that  its  purity  was  as  much  owing  to  a 


THE  LITTLE   GRANDMOTHER'S  RIDE.      235 

diligent  reading  of  the  Bible  and  such  books  as 
Bunyan's  Pilgrim's  Progress  and  Holy  War  as  to 
the  instruction  she  had  in  English  grammar.  For 
I  have  often  observed,  pussy,  that  what  we  should 
call  illiterate  old  men  and  women  often  have  a 
remarkable  facility  of  expression,  —  Bible-reading 
old  men  and  women,  I  mean,  —  which  they  could 
have  acquired  from  no  other  source. 

"Well,  the  fame  of  Molly's  achievements,  it 
seems,  spread  far  and  wide,  and  the  year  after  the 
gown  affair  Captain  Israel  Holmes  came  up  from 
Manomet  to  ask  her  to  go  down  and  teach  their 
district  school.  He  offered  her  the  large  sum,  for 
those  days,  of  one  dollar  per  week  and  board. 
She  was  to  board  round.  It  was  a  great  honor  to 
be  asked,  of  course  ;  her  mother  and  all  the  family 
felt  that.  But  then  there  were  adverse  considera- 
tions. Manomet  was  a  great  way  off.  '  Only 
twenty  miles,'  we  should  say  to-day  — a  mere  bag- 
atelle. But  then  —  why,  then  it  was  almost  as  far 
between  the  two  as  from  Plymouth  to  Colorado 
to-day.  Not  that  it  took  so  long  a  time  to  make 
the  journey  as  it  does  the  latter.  But  it  had  to  be 
made  on  horseback,  and  there  was  no  direct 
communication  by  mail,  and  the  whole  summer 
might  pass  without  news  from  the  wanderer. 


236         LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

"  And  then  Molly  was  so  volatile !  her  mother 
said.  There  was  the  gown  affair !  Could  she  be 
trusted  to  conduct  herself  with  propriety  so  far 
from  home  ? 

"  But  Molly  was  eager  and  her  father  approved, 
and  so  on  a  Saturday  morning,  Captain  Israel  and 
his  wife  having  arrived  the  night  before,  they 
started  for  Manomet,  Captain  Israel's  wife  on  a 
pillion  behind  him  on  one  horse,  and  Molly  with 
her  luggage  behind  her  on  the  second  horse. 

"  You  may  be  sure  her  luggage  was  n't  a 
Saratoga  trunk,  or  even  one  of  hair  studded  with 
brass  nails,  such  as  may  be  found  in  Halifax  attics 
to-day,  ancient  specimens  in  which  the  sons  of 
the  family  took  their  small  kit  up  to  Harvard. 
Molly's  gowns  were  few,  and  she  did  n't  take  her 
pink  and  lavender  brocade.  She  had  a  petticoat 
and  short-gown,  two  in  fact,  for  daily  wear,  and  a 
white  dimity  for  Sundays." 

All  this  was  vastly  interesting  to  Suzette.  She 
thought  it  quite  in  the  line  of  Pilgrim  history,  and 
she  said  so  to  uncle  Tom. 

"  So  it  is,"  he  replied.  "  It  took  place  almost  a 
hundred  years  nearer  1620  than  we  are,  and  Molly, 
as  you  know,  was  a  direct  descendant  of  the  Pil- 
grims, and  inherited  much  of  their  spirit.  She 
had  the  fearlessness  of  a  frontier  woman. 


THE  LITTLE  GRANDMOTHER'S  RIDE.      237 

"  She  always  told  us  her  summer's  teaching  was 
a  marked  success — our  little  grandmother,  only 
three  years-  older  than  you  are,  pussy.  I  can 
fancy  her,  can't  you  ?  presiding  demurely  over  the 
big  girls  of  her  own  age,  and  teaching  the  young- 
sters their  ABC  and  their  catechism  on  Satur- 
days. That  was  always  the  Saturday's  business, 
and  very  familiar  teacher  and  pupils  became  with 
the  New  England  Primer,  with  its  '  In  Adam's 
Fall,  we  sinned  all,'  and  so  on.  I  have  the  very 
copy,  much  worn,  out  of  which  Molly  learned  her 
catechism,  and  you  must  see  it,  pussy,  some  day. 

"  She  boarded  round,  as  I  have  said,  a  few 
clays  here  and  a  week  there,  according  to  the 
number  of  children  sent  from  the  family.  It 
was  like  a  continuous  feast,  for  everybody  did 
their  very  best  cooking  for  the  little  school-ma'am, 
and  got  out  their  best  china,  and  some  of  it 
astonishingly  pretty  too,  I  assure  you,  for  I  have 
seen  remnants  of  it  at  Manomet  on  what-nots  and 
mantelpieces.  And  they  opened  their  spare  bed- 
rooms with  beds  of  live  geese  feathers  into  which 
Molly  sank  those  warm  summer  nights  to  the 
tips  of  her  blessed  little  ears. 

"  And  so  the  summer  passed  happily,  and  she 
taught  sixteen  weeks,  for  which  term,  if  my  arith- 


238        LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

metic  is  correct,  pussy,  —  and  I  never  was  cele- 
brated for  my  arithmetical  powers,  —  she  received 
the  munificent  sum  of  sixteen  silver  dollars. 

"  Sixteen  dollars !  pshaw !  Sixteen  dollars  would 
n't  find  a  girl  of  to-day  in  pocket  handkerchiefs 
for  one  season  !  but  to  Molly  infinite  possibilities 
of  expenditure  lay  within  that  vast  sum. 

"  The  school  closed  the  very  last  day  of  Septem- 
ber, and  it  had  been  arranged  with  Molly's  father 
that  Captain  Israel,  who  had  conveyed  her  safely 
thither,  should  also  take  her  back,  but,  at  the  time 
set,  Mrs.  Israel  had  one  of  a  certain  kind  of  '  spells  ' 
to  which  she  was  liable,  and  the  captain  could  not 
be  spared. 

"  In  vain  they  entreated  Molly  to  wait  until 
such  time  as  he  could  go.  It  would  not  be  more 
than  a  week  at  the  longest.  But  Molly  could  not 
wait.  She  had  finished  her  work  and  was  eager  to 
see  home  and  father  and  mother  after  her  long 
absence.  And  she  declared  that  she  was  n't 
afraid  even  to  ride  alone  through  Manomet  woods, 
and  that  was  the  longest  stretch  of  woods  in  the 
whole  distance. 

"  Afraid !  what  was  there  to  be  afraid  of  ?  wood- 
chucks  or  squirrels  ?  The  few  Indians  left  had 
become  thoroughly  tamed  during  the  long  interval 


THE  LITTLE    GRANDMOTHER'S  RIDE.      239 

since  the  Pilgrim  days,  and  they  lived  in  houses 
and  worked  like  other  folks,  and  sent  their  chil- 
dren to  school.  Molly  had  had  three  all  summer. 

"  And  was  n't  she  going  on  Baal  —  Baal  who 
was  so  swift  he  could  take  her  away  from  any- 
thing but  a  whirlwind  ?  And  so  the  brave-hearted, 
impatient  little  grandmother  had  her  way,  and 
started  one  bright  October  morning  on  Baal  for 
her  twenty  miles'  ride. 

"Baal  was  a  young  horse,  black  as  jet,  that  had 
been  reared  by  Captain  Israel  and  bought  by  Mol- 
ly's father,  and  when  she  came  home  it  had  been 
arranged  that  she  should  ride  him.  He  had  been 
broken  for  her  and  she  had  ridden  him,  more  or 
less,  all  summer,  and  they  were  well  acquainted,  as, 
nobody  knows  better  than  you,  pussy,  a  horse  and 
his  rider  should  be.  He  would  come  to  her  call 
from  the  farthest  bounds  of  his  pasture,  and  no- 
body could  control  the  fiery  yet  gentle  creature 
quite  as  well  as  Molly. 

"  It  was  a  bright  autumn  day,  as  I  said.  I 
remember  how  she  dwelt  on  the  beauty  of  the  day 
that  last  time  I  saw  her.  It  seemed  to  be  as  clear 
in  her  memory  as  though  it  had  been  of  yesterday. 
The  sky  was  blue,  she  said,  and  over  the  blue 
drifted  great  islands  of  white  clouds,  the  kind  of 


240         LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

sky  which  you  and  I,  pussy,  think  the  most  beauti- 
ful sky  in  the  world. 

"  The  harvest  was  only  partially  gathered  in, 
and  great  heaps  of  golden  pumpkins  lay  in  the 
fields  and  corners  of  the  dooryards,  and  piles  of 
red  and  yellow  apples  under  the  trees  in  the 
orchards.  The  corn-husking  was  going  on,  and,  as 
she  passed  the  barns  with  their  great  doors  flung 
wide  open,  she  could  see  the  huskers  at  work. 
The  very  next  day  there  was  to  be  a  mammoth 
husking  with  a  harvest  supper,  for  which  Molly 
had  been  vainly  entreated  to  stay. 

"  The  golden-rod  and  the  purple  asters  blos- 
somed all  along  the  wayside  amid  tangles  of  crim- 
soning blackberry  vines  and  huckleberry  bushes, 
brown  burdocks  and  wild-rose  hips,  and  soft,  fluffy 
seeds  ready  to  take  wing.  The  whole  air  was  full 
of  fruity  smells,  iced,  as  it  were,  with  the  fresh, 
cool  sea-breeze  which  came  in  in  a  long  sweep 
across  the  Cape  from  the  Atlantic.  All  along  to 
the  right  lay  the  blue  sea,  a  distant  fishing  fleet 
flecking  the  horizon  with  white  sails.  Over  the 
hills  scampered  the  shadows  dropped  by  the 
drifting  clouds." 

"  O  uncle  Tom,  I  don't  wonder  she  thought  it 
beautiful !  "  exclaimed  Suzette.  "  And  you  —  you 
look  just  as  though  you  saw  it." 


THE  LITTLE    GRANDMOTHER'S  RIDE.      24! 

Uncle  Tom  laughed. 

"  Well,  she  rode  slowly  along,  not  hastening,  for 
she  had  the  day  before  her,  but  taking  in  all  the 
beauty,  and  nodding  to  the  huskers  in  the  barns, 
the  women  at  their  kitchen  doors,  and  the  children 
who,  with  baskets  and  tin  pails,  were  bound  for 
beechnuts  and  plums. 

"  By-and-by  she  came  to  the  woods,  a  stretch 
of  eight  miles.  She  remembered  the  autumnal 
beauty  of  the  woods  that  day  as  she  rode  into 
them.  The  trees  were  in  their  glory,  and  the 
hickorys,  in  places  where  they  stood  on  either  side 
of  the  road,  seemed  to  flood  it  with  a  golden  radi- 
ance. The  oaks  were  just  beginning  to  turn, 
though  some  were  already  of  a  deep  carmine,  and 
the  sumachs  blazed  as  only  sumachs  can,  while 
here  and  there,  by  way  of  contrast,  was  seen  a 
purple  ash.  The  birches  were  partially  shorn  of 
their  splendor,  but  single  leaves  dropped  like  soli- 
tary flakes  of  fire  to  join  the  harlequin  drifts  which 
lay  by  the  roadside.  In  one  open  glade  the  fringed 
gentian  lifted  its  heavenly  blue. 

"Then  would  come  a  bit  of  pine  woods,  the 
trees  meeting  overhead  and  interlacing  in  such  a 
way  as  to  shut  out  all  but  stray  gleams  of  sunlight ; 
and  here  Baal's  footfalls  fell  silently  upon  the  thick 
mats  of  brown  needles. 


242         LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

"As  she  rode  along  she  suffered  the  reins  to 
hang  somewhat  loosely  on  Baal's  neck,  though  she 
was  too  good  a  horsewoman  not  to  be  sufficiently 
on  her  guard  to  gather  them  up  on  the  instant,  if 
necessary. 

"  As  she  was  passing  through  one  of  the  denser 
portions  of  the  wood,  having  already  gone  three 
miles  out  of  the  eight,  suddenly,  from  a  thicket  at 
the  left,  a  man  sprang  out  and  caught  at  Baal's 
bridle.  The  horse  shied,  gave  one  great  bound, 
and  was  off,  Molly  holding  firmly  the  reins,  her 
Pilgrim  blood  up  and  her  faculties  all  alert. 

"  As  Baal  sprang  she  had  caught  sight  of  a  horse 
in  the  thicket,  and  knew  in  a  moment  that  the 
man,  whoever  he  might  be,  would  follow  —  and  five 
miles  between  her  and  safety.  It  was  the  sixteen 
silver  dollars  in  her  saddlebags  that  he  wanted,  she 
had  not  a  doubt.  For  an  instant  she  thought  of 
taking  them  out  and  throwing  them  to  him,  as  peo- 
ple throw  meat  to  pursuing  wolves,  you  know,  to 
keep  the  brutes  busy  while  they  make  off.  But 
no  !  no !  it  would  be  shameful  to  lose  the  results 
of  her  whole  summer's  work  after  such  cowardly 
fashion. 

"  So  on  !  on,  Baal !  and  we  '11  see  who  will  win  ! 
She  had  no  time  to  speculate  as  to  who  the  high- 


THE  LITTLE    GRANDMOTHER'S  RIDE.      243 

wayman  might  be  and  how  he  came  to  know  of 
her  solitary  ride.  For  in  a  moment  she  heard  the 
quick  coming  footsteps  of  his  horse  behind,  and 
all  her  thought  was  concentrated  on  escape. 

"  She  had  never  put  Baal  down  to  his  utmost 
speed,  but  she  knew  he  was  fast  and  her  hopes 
were  high.  She  encouraged  him  from  moment  to 
moment  with  caressing  words  which  he  well  under- 
stood, she  knew,  by  the  prick  of  his  ears  ;  but 
there  was  no  time  for  him  to  acknowledge  her 
caresses,  even  by  a  neigh  or  a  turn  of  his  head. 

"  The  gallant  beast  evidently  took  in  the  situa- 
tion, —  at  any  rate,  so  his  mistress  always  affirmed 
whenever  she  told  the  story, — and  actually  seemed 
to  fly ;  while  the  footsteps  behind,  if  they  did  not 
lessen  in  the  distance,  at  least  came  no  nearer. 

"  There  was  one  very  critical  moment,  that 
wherein  Molly  felt  the  saddle  slipping  under  her, 
and  knew  there  was  nothing  else  to  do  but  to 
jump  off  and  tighten  the  girth.  She  did  so,  draw- 
ing the  buckles  tightly  with  firm  hands  that  did 
not  tremble  or  shake  one  bit,  she  always  declared, 
though  she  heard  each  moment  the  steps  drawing 
nearer.  But,  somehow,  she  said,  instead  of  fear 
she  had  a  kind  of  exhilaration,  such  as  a  man  has, 
I  suppose,  when  he 's  fairly  in  the  battle  and 


244         LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

knows  he  's  in  for  it.  Danger  acts  upon  gallant 
natures  like  a  stimulant,  and  our  little  grand- 
mother had  a  gallant  nature,  pussy. 

"  Having  tightened  the  straps,  she  touched  the 
saddlebow  with  one  hand  and  sprang  lightly  to  her 
seat,  for  -such  was  her  horsemanship  she  needed 
not  the  outstretched  hand  or  helping  arm  to  assist 
her  to  mount.  New  England  country  girls  then 
were  trained  and  active  riders ;  it  is  a  pity  the 
fashion  has  so  died  out. 

"The  footsteps  had  drawn  dangerously  near 
during  this  pause,  but  Baal  had  also  had  time  to 
take  breath  and  he  was  off  again  like  the  wind. 

"  The  woods  had  begun  to  thin  on  either  hand, 
and  glimpses  of  open  country  to  be  seen  far  ahead, 
when  a  horseman  suddenly  came  into  view,  who, 
as  he  drew  near,  Molly  recognized  as  the  son  of  a 
townsman,  Jack  by  name,  although  she  could 
hardly  credit  her  eyes  at  first. 

"  He,  on  his  part,  was  somewhat  taken  aback  at 
seeing  Molly  coming  on  at  such  a  breakneck  pace, 
having  expected  to  meet  her  ambling  gently  along 
by  the  side  of  Captain  Israel,  and  he  drew  up  at 
one  side  so  as  not  to  be  incontinently  run  over. 

"  Molly  drew  rein  beside  him  and  in  a  few  words 
explained  the  situation.  The  highwayman  came 


THE  LITTLE    GRANDMOTHERS  RIDE,     245 

into  view,  but,  seeing  the  new-comer,  turned  tail 
and  rode  off,  Jack  sending  a  pistol  shot  after  him, 
or  rather  into  the  air  above  him,  from  the  pistol  at 
his  saddle,  to  let  him  know  what  he  might  expect 
should  he  change  his  mind  and  renew  the  chase. 

"Then  Jack  explained  his  presence.  He  had 
come  to  Plymouth  town  on  business  and,  learning 
from  her  mother  that  this  was  the  day  of  Molly's 
return,  after  completing  that  business  had  ridden 
on  to  meet  them.  And  very  fortunate  it  was 
doubtless,  though  Molly  always  insisted  that  Baal 
would  have  brought  her  safely  through. 

"  So  together  they  rode  through  the  old  Pilgrim 
land,  Jack  and  our  little  grandmother :  by  the 
hamlet  of  Eel  River,  now  Chiltonville,  where 
Squanto  trampled  out  the  eels  for  the  Pilgrims, 
which  primitive  way  of  catching  them  has  given 
place  to  eel-pots ;  through  Holmes  Hole,  now 
modernized  into  Wellingsly  ;  through  Plymouth 
town,  a  hamlet  when  compared  with  the  Plymouth 
of  to-day ;  and  then  by  way  of  Rocky  Nook  and 
Kingston  town,  Triphammer,  Wapping,  and  Plymp- 
ton,  over  many  a  winding  stream  and  through 
many  a  solitary  woods,  and  the  sun  was  down  and 
a  new  moon  in  the  west  as  they  drew  rein  at  the 
dear  old  farm-house,  with  its  avenue  of  stately 


246         LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

poplars  leading  to  the  front  porch,  long  since 
felled  by  the  woodman's  axe. 

"  Baal  lived  to  an  extraordinary  age,  my  grand- 
mother said,  and  in  his  later  years  was  suffered  to 
do  no  work,  but  had  the  choicest  of  pastures 
allotted  to  him  in  summer  and  the  warmest  of 
stalls  in  winter. 

"  She  showed  me  once  where  they  buried  him 
on  the  evening  of  the  day  on  which  he  died,  and 
told  me  how  she  and  Jack  wept  over  him,  grown 
man  and  woman  though  they  were,  for  Jack  was 
our  grandfather,  pussy,  my  grandfather  and  your 
great-grandfather. " 

"  Oh,  how  beautiful !  "  cried  Suzette,  with  a  great 
light  in  her  eyes,  for,  as  we  have  seen,  she  dearly 
loved  a  bit  of  romance. 


CHAPTER   XVI. 

THE  CHILDREN'S  EXCURSION. 

"Full  humble  were  their  meals, 

Their  dainties  very  few; 
Twas  only  ground-nuts,  clams,  and  eels, 
When  this  old  chair  was  new." 

—  a  Bible. 
Ponderous,  bound  in  leather,  brass-studded,  printed  in  Holland. 

—  Longfellow. 

'"T^HEY  were  coming  —  five  hundred  children, 
•*•  so  it  was  said,  from  Boston,  that  warm, 
bright  morning  in  early  September ;  coming  in 
the  Stamford,  to  spend  a  few  hours  in  Old  Pil- 
grim Town. 

Five  hundred  children  !  Suzette's  breath  was 
almost  taken  away  at  the  very  thought  of  it ! 
And  as  the  steamer  anchored  at  Long  Wharf,  and 
after  some  delay  the  crowd  of  children  began  to 
move  up  North  Street  in  a  dense  but  orderly 
mass,  she  leaned  over  the  railing  and  scanned 
them  eagerly. 

Presently,  out  from  the  mass,   a   pair   of  blue 
247 


248         LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

and  a  pair  of  black  eyes  looked  up  to  her  with  a 
glance  of  recognition,  and  two  small  mouths 
smiled,  displaying  the  dimpliest  of  cheeks.  Then 
it  was  that  aunt  Pen,  who  was  standing  in  the 
front  door,  saw  Suzette  rush  along  the  street 
and,  turning  at  the  corner,  plunge  down  hill. 
She,  too,  then  hurried  to  the  railing,  and,  leaning 
over,  saw  her  seize  by  the  hand  two  little  girls 
who  laughed  and  struggled  out  of  the  mass. 

"  Are  they  friends  of  yours  ? "  asked  aunt  Pen's 
pleasant  voice. 

And  Suzette,  looking  up,  replied  :  "  Yes ;  and 
may  n't  I  ask  them  up  ?  I  should  so  like  to  take 
them  round.  May  I,  aunt  Pen  ? " 

"  But  you  must  ask  that  of  some  of  the  friends 
who  are  with  them,"  was  aunt  Pen's  reply. 

This  was  quickly  done  of  a  sweet-faced  woman 
who  had  this  particular  section  in  charge,  and  con- 
sent was  given. 

"  Who  are  your  little  friends  ?  "  asked  aunt  Pen, 
as  she  came  forward  to  greet  them.  And  Suzette 
had  to  reply  :  "  O  aunt  Pen,  I  don't  know  their 
names !  but  we  picked  dandelions  together  on 
Boston  Common." 

"  My  name  is  Maggie  Mather,"  said  Blue-eyes. 

"And  mine  is  Nora  O'Reilly,"  said  Black-eyes. 


THE    CHILDREN'S  EXCURSION.  249 

Having  thus  been  introduced,  aunt  Pen  took 
them  into  the  cool  parlor. 

It  was  extremely  warm  —  a  little  too  warm,  aunt 
Pen  felt,  on  reflection,  for  Suzette  to  be  walking 
several  hours  in  the  heat  of  the  day  ;  and  so  she 
made  a  proposition  which  Suzette  pronounced 
"  perfectly  charming,"  and  which  Maggie  and 
Nora  felt  in  their  inmost  souls  was  "  splendid ! " 
though  in  their  shyness  they  did  not  venture  to 
say  so.  It  was  that  Jason  should  put  Queen  Bess 
and  Queen  Ann  to  the  carriage,  and  take  them  a 
little  drive  around  Pilgrim  Town,  up  to  Billington 
Sea  and  out  to  the  Pilgrim  Monument,  and,  return- 
ing, leave  them  at  Pilgrim  Hall  for  a  short  hour 
perhaps,  and  then  bring  them  back,  after  which 
they  could  visit  Burial  Hill  and  the  rock. 

We  have  been  to  almost  all  these  places  with 
Suzette  in  previous  chapters,  so  in  this  we  will 
only  accompany  her  to  Pilgrim  Hall.  Not  that 
this  was  her  first  visit  there.  She  and  Dick  had 
been  there  many  times  during  the  weeks  they  had 
spent  in  Pilgrim  Town.  But  we  shall  not  feel 
that  we  know  this  old  town  well  unless  we,  too, 
have  seen  its  famous  hall. 

This  hall  is  built  of  granite,  and  has  a  portico 
across  its  front  which,  if  you  should  ask  me  its 


250 


LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 


style,  I  should  tell  you  was  Doric.  In  its  pedi- 
ment is  a  carving  in  wood  of  the  Landing.  It  is 
highly  imaginative,  of  course,  for  an  Indian  is 
represented  as  kneeling  before  the  Pilgrim  who  is 


stepping  out  of  the  boat ;  and  we  know  no  Indian 
was  there.  The  Pilgrim's  right  hand  is  out- 
stretched, and  in  that  hand  a  saucy  English  spar- 
row had  built  its  nest  that  spring,  and  conse- 
quently the  Pilgrim  looked  very  much  as  though 
he  had  been  birds'-nesting,  like  a  naughty  boy. 
That  was  what  Suzette  heard  a  gentleman  re- 
mark as  she  was  going  up  the  steps,  and  as  she 


THE  CHILDREN'S  EXCURSION.  251 

looked  up  the  sparrow  flew  down,  almost  brushing 
her  cheek  in  passing. 

In  all  her  visits  to  the  hall  Suzette  could  never 
quite  decide  which  thing  it  was  that  pleased  and 
interested  her  most :  whether  it  was  the  bit  of 
quilt  that  once  belonged  to  the  lovely  Rose  Stand- 
ish,  or  John  Alden's  Bible,  or  the  shoes  that  Penel- 
ope Winslow,  wife  of  Governor  Josiah  Winslow, 
wore  when  a  baby,  or  Edward  Winslow' s  gold 
ring,  or  the  redoubtable  sword  of  the  redoubtable 
Myles  Standish. 

This  "  trusty  sword,"  as  Longfellow  calls  it, 

"  Curved  at  the  point  and  inscribed  with  its  mystical  Arabic 
sentences," 

has  also  upon  its  blade  the  sun  and  moon  with 
lions'  faces  engraved  inside  of  them.  This  is  said 
to  be  a  Persian  blade,  and  made  of  meteoric  iron, 
which  drops  down  to  us  from  somewhere  in  the 
great  blue  space  around  us.  Orientals  believe  that 
swords  made  of  this  iron  are  specially  lucky,  and 
that  the  bearer  has  a  charmed  life. 

In  that  hall,  too,  are  the  huge  iron  pot  and  pew- 
ter platter  of  Myles  Standish,  and  if  we  gauge  his 
appetite  by  the  size  of  them  it  must  have  been 


252         LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

excellent.  In  that  pot  was  cooked,  perhaps,  a 
portion  of  the  eagle  the  Pilgrims  killed  and  which 
they  thought  tasted  so  much  like  mutton  ! 

And  there  is  the  dressing-case  of  Penelope 
Winslow,  which  shows  that,  if  our  Pilgrim  mothers 
did  eat  without  forks,  they  were  not  quite  desti- 
tute of  the  elegancies  of  life ;  and  also  a  bead 
purse  which  she  made. 

There,  too,  is  a  pewter  platter  once  belonging 
to  Governor  Edward  Winslow,  upon  which  is 
engraved  his  coat-of-arms,  and  the  chair  and  table 
which  stood  in  his  council  chamber. 

But  I  think  that,  after  all,  the  one  thing  of 
deepest  interest  to  Suzette  was  the  sampler  of 
Lorea  Standish,  the  little  daughter  of  Myles 
Standish.  All  our  great-great-grandmothers  had 
to  work  their  samplers,  as  they  were  called,  when 
they  were  little  girls,  working  the  letters  upon  the 
canvas  in  the  pretty  cross-stitch  which  is  still  the 
prettiest  of  all  for  simple  marking  of  clothes. 
And  here  is  the  inscription  on  that  sampler  just 
as  it  is  embroidered  :  — 


THE   CHILDREN'S  EXCURSION.  253 


Lorea  Standish  is  my  name 


Lord  guide  my  heart  that 
I  may  doe  thy  will.  Also  fill 
my  hands  with  such  c 
onvenient  skill  as  may 
conduce  to  vertue  void  of 
shame  and  I  will  give 
the  glory  to  thy  name 


Suzette  never  tired  of  looking  at  this  faded  bit 
of  work.  She  liked  to  think  of  the  little  Lorea 
sitting  in  the  kitchen  of  that  solitary  house  over 
there  in  Duxbury,  working  away  at  it  while  the 
dinner  boiled  in  the  big  pot  and  the  brightly 
scoured  pewter  dishes  shone  upon  the  dresser. 
Her  father  would  come  in  from  his  work  or  his 
trip  to  Plymouth,  perhaps,  and  look  at  it  and 
praise  his  little  daughter's  work.  For  he  was  a 
tender-hearted  man,  as  we  know  from  what  Gov- 
ernor William  Bradford  has  told  us  —  how  he 
watched  over  and  tended  and  bathed  and  fed  the 


254         LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

sick  that  sad  first  winter.  And  we  know  from 
that  that  he  must  have  been  a  loving  father. 

There,  too,  is  the  Dutch  cradle  in  which  Pere- 
grine White  was  rocked,  and  the  inlaid  cabinet 
which  he  owned  and  used  when  a  man,  and  a  brass 
candlestick  and  cane  that  belonged  to  his  father, 
and  a  cape  and  slipper  which  his  mother  wore.  I 
wonder  what  became  of  the  other  slipper ! 

For  the  Indian  relics  Suzette  did  not  care.  In- 
dians were  an  every-day  thing  to  her.  Though  an 
exception  should  be  made  of  the  gun  with  which 
King  Philip  was  killed  —  the  brave  King  Philip 
who  died  fighting  gallantly  for  his  race  and 
country,  and  whose  wife  and  son  were  afterward 
sold  as  slaves  in  the  West  Indies. 

There  was  a  case  of  bones  also,  which  may  be 
said  to  have  interested  her  in  a  way,  though  it  was 
a  rather  grewsome  kind  of  interest.  These  bones 
comprised  the  skeleton  of  the  sachem  lyanough, 
that  "  fayre-conditioned  "  young  man  who  break- 
fasted the  Pilgrim  party  when  they  were  in  search 
of  John  Billington.  These  bones  were  dug  up  at 
Barnstable,  and  the  big  kettle  in  the  case  had 
covered  the  head. 

But  as  to  the  sofa  and  clock  of  John  Hancock, 
and  the  hay-fork  which  was  used  in  making  the 


THE   CHILDREN'S  EXCURSION. 


255 


breastworks  of  hay  at  the  battle  of  Bunker  Hill, 
they  were  all  too  modern  to  interest  this  antiquity- 
loving  Westerner. 

There  were  spinning-wheels  and  spectacles  that 
came  over  in   the  Mayflower,   and  a  candle  two 


hundred  years  old,  and  a  big  Dutch  Bible,  and  an 
ancient  teapot,  and —  But  it  is  no  use  just  to 
give  the  names  of  the  things  those  three  saw  ;  it 
would  simply  be  a  catalogue,  that  is  all.  And  a 
catalogue  gives  no  better  idea  of  things  than  a  bill- 
of-fare  does  of  a  dinner.  You  must  see  the  things 
and  eat  the  dinner  if  you  would  know  what  they 
are  like. 


256         LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

Maggie  and  Nora,  having  small  knowledge  of 
the  Pilgrim  Fathers  and  their  wives  and  children, 
liked  best  the  gay  paintings  upon  the  wall  —  the 
big  one  where  Samoset  is  seen,  and  in  which  is 
Baby  Peregrine  looking  very  blue  and  cold,  and 
the  one  of  equal  size  of  the  Embarkation,  in 
which  is  painted  the  beautiful  wife  of  Edward 
Winslow. 

There  is  one  portrait  in  the  Hall  of  great  inter- 
est—  that  of  Governor  Edward  Winslow,  the  only 
known  original  portrait  of  a  Mayflower  Pilgrim. 
He  was  born  in  Droitwich,  England,  and  lived  in 
Marshfield,  where  he  had  an  estate  named  Cares- 
well.  It  was  so  called  for  his  English  home. 
Such  things  as  this  show  how  these  brave  men 
loved  the  land  from  which  they  felt  constrained  to 
flee. 

As  they  were  driving  home  from  Pilgrim  Hall 
they  came  upon  a  group  of  boys  on  the  sidewalk, 
the  center  of  which  was  a  plump  little  fellow  of 
eight  or  thereabouts,  down  whose  cheeks  the  tears 
were  streaming^  while  around  him  the  other  boys 
were  scrambling  for  apples  which  were  rolling 
hither  and  thither. 

"  Oh,  stop,  Jason,  please  !  "  said  Suzette. 
"What  is  the  matter,  little  boy?" 


THE    CHILDREN'S  EXCURSION. 

"It's  Micky  Mahon,"  said  Maggie.  "He  lives 
in  the  house  with  us." 

"  Micky,  what 's  the  matter  ? "  And  with  one 
voice  the  boys  began  to  tell.  Somebody  had  given 
them  all  the  apples  they  could  carry  away,  —  early 
apples,  very  golden,  very  round  and  smooth,  —  and 
Micky  had  tied  strings  around  the  bottom  of  his 
trowser's  legs,  and  filled  them  with  the  apples. 
But,  alas !  the  strings,  not  being  strong,  had 
broken,  and  voila !  as  the  French  say,  all  the 
apples  had  rolled  away,  the  boys  were  eating 
them,  and  Micky  was  heartbroken. 

"  Served  him  right,  the  greedy  feller ! "  said 
some  of  the  boys.  But  Suzette  did  not  think  so. 
"  Come  into  the  carriage,  Micky,"  she  said. 
"  There 's  plenty  of  room,  and  you  shall  go  home 
with  us,  and  aunt  Pen  will  give  you  all  the  apples 
you  want.  Won't  she,  Jason  ? " 

"  I  reckon,"  said  Jason. 

And  as  they  rode  along  Suzette  wiped  the  tears 
from  his  hot  cheeks  with  her  soft,  cool  handker- 
chief, and  comforted  him.  He  wanted  to  carry 
the  apples  home  to  mother  and  little  Pat,  he  said. 
Little  Pat  had  hardly  ever  had  an  apple,  and  never 
such  round,  yellow,  fair  ones  as  these,  and  he 
wanted  to  tell  him  how  he  had  picked  them  up 


258         LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

himself,  and  how  they  grew  on  a  tree !  Micky 
himself,  never  knew  before  that  apples  grew  on 
trees !  He  thought  somebody  made  'em,  like  as 
they  did  candy  and — peanuts  !  Poor  little  Micky  ! 

Mehitable,  who  had  never  been  outside  of  Ply- 
mouth more  than  twice  in  her  life,  and  to  whom 
Boston  was  a  far-away  Babylon,  whose  inhabitants 
had  a  mixture  of  chalk  and  water  called  milk,  and 
a  compound  of  villainous  fats  dubbed  butter,  and 
fermented  fruits,  and  cottony  bakers'  loaves  served 
up  to  them  for  daily  bread,  had  prepared  for 
Maggie  and  Nora  a  delicious  lunch,  to  which 
Micky  was  cordially  welcomed,  after  she  had  taken 
him  out  to  the  kitchen  sink  and  with  motherly 
hands  bathed  his  face  and  removed  every  trace  of 
tears. 

So  far  as  these  three  were  concerned,  Me- 
hitable was  right  concerning  the  daily  bread  of 
Boston.  For  never  had  they  dreamed,  much  more 
tasted,  of  such  luscious  blackberries,  such  sweet 
cream,  such  glasses  of  fragrant  milk,  and  such 
delicate  pound-cakes.  They  ate  their  fill,  and 
when  they  went  down  to  the  Stamford  each  had  a 
package  of  dainties  to  take  home,  and  Micky,  in 
addition,  a  basket  of  the  loveliest  pink  and  yellow 
apples.  And  Maggie,  as  she  waved  her  hat  to 


THE    CHILDREN'S  EXCURSION.  259 

Suzette,  who  was  standing  under  the  lindens  as 
the  Stamford  moved  off,  was  surer  than  before 
that  here  was  one  of  tne  saints  in  the  flesh. 

Teddy,  too,  had  his  adventure  that  day.  As  he 
was  standing  at  the  head  of  North  Street  looking 
at  the  procession  of  children,  he  caught  sight  of  a 
familiar  face  —  that  of  the  newspaper  boy  of 
whom  he  had  declared  that  if  ever  he  caught  him 
in  Plymouth  he  'd  "  smash  his  nose  and  give  him 
gowdy."  And  that  was  his  first  impulse.  But  it 
quickly  passed.  For  since  that  time,  as  we  know, 
he  had  been  in  a  different  school,  and  was  trying 
not  only  to  be  outwardly  courteous  like  Dick,  but 
inwardly  good  as  he  thought  he  was. 

So,  bravely  throttling  the  old  familiar  spirit  of 
retaliation,  he  crossed  the  street  and  hailed  him 
with  a  hospitable  "  Hallo,  old  chap  !  Glad  t'  see 
ye!" 

They  fraternized  at  once,  an  I  Teddy  took  him 
all  about  and  showed  him  everything. 

Much  to  Teddy's  delight,  Phil  -for  that  was 
his  name,  so  he  informed  him,  Phil  Wildsmith  — 
Phil  not  only  knew  little  about  our  Pilgrim 
Fathers,  but  had  not  even  so  much  as  heard  of 
them.  It  is  not  necessary  to  apologize  for  Teddy's 
delight ;  most  of  us  can  understand  what  a  satis- 


26O        LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

faction  it  was  to  him  to  find  another  boy  in  even  a 
darker  condition  in  regard  to  Pilgrim  history  than 
was  he  when  Suzette  took  him  in  hand.  And 
then  there  was  the  pleasure  of  telling  him  the 
story ! 

But  Phil  did  not  take  to  Pilgrim  Hall.  From  his 
point  of  view  all  the  historical  treasures  gathered 
there  were  mere  rubbish.  He  was  not  inter- 
ested in  them.  Neither  was  he  greatly  interested 
in  the  rock  at  first.  Even  the  canopy,  with  its 
carved  scallop  shells,  the  Pilgrim's  sign  and  token, 
struck  him  as  far  less  worthy  of  notice  than 
Bunker  Hill  Monument  under  the  shadow  of 
which  he  had  grown  up.  That  was  tall,  but  this  ! 
what  a  little  thing  it  was  ! 

Phil's  father  and  mother  were  English,  and  his 
mother,  the  only  one  of  the  two  he  remembered, 
had  told  him  a  good  many  things  about  her  native 
land  which  had  fixed  themselves  in  his  memory  ; 
and  so,  when  Teddy  told  him  the  Pilgrims  came 
from  England,  his  attention  was  at  last  caught. 
Upon  this  peg  Teddy  proceeded  to  hang  his  in- 
formation. 

From  Pilgrim  Hall  they  had  walked  up  to  the 
high  hill  upon  which  stands  the  National  Monu- 
ment to  the  Pilgrims.  Phil  had  seen  this  from  the 


THE    CHILDREN'S  EXCURSION.  26  I 

harbor  as  they  sailed  in  ;  had  noticed  the  figure 
of  Faith  on  its  summit,  which,  seen  from  that  dis- 
tance, seems  to  stand  poised  for  flight.  Much, 
if  not  all  of  this  lightness,  vanishes,  however,  as 
one  draws  near. 

And  what  was  this  book  she  held,  he  asked,  and 
why  was  she  pointing  upward  ?  Teddy  tried  to 
explain  as  well  as  he  could,  but  the  allegory 
proved  too  much  for  him,  and  he  soon  abandoned 
the  attempt,  not  only  to  explain  the  figure  of 
Faith,  but  the  other  great  allegorical  figures  which 
are  seated  upon  the  four  arms  of  the  cross,  some 
with  wide-open  and  others  with  blind  eyes. 

These  figures  are  Law,  Morality,  Education,  and 
Liberty.  Morality  holds  in  her  hands  the  Law 
given  on  the  Mount  and  the  scroll  of  St.  John's 
Revelation.  On  either  side  of  her  stand  the  small 
figures  of  a  prophet  and  an  evangelist.  Law  is 
accompanied  with  similar  small  figures  of  Justice 
and  Mercy  ;  and  Education  has  beside  her  a  little 
figure  of  Wisdom,  and  that  of  a  fair  boy  led  by 
Experience.  On  Liberty's  pedestal  we  see  gentle 
Peace,  and  Tyranny  overthrown. 

But  when  they  came  to  the  panels  inserted 
under  these  figures  Teddy  was  more  at  home, 
and  he  explained  enthusiastically  how  this  one, 


262         LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

the  first  in  order,  was  the  Embarkation,  the 
setting  sail  of  the  Pilgrims  from  Delft-Haven. 
The  man  with  the  long  cloak  on,  who  was  helping 
the  woman  on  board,  was  John  Robinson,  Teddy 
said.  It  was  just  like  him  to  help  the  woman. 
He  was  a  good  man  ;  a  man  that  liked  to  help 
folks,  Suzette  had  told  him.  He  was  the  Pilgrims' 
minister,  and  he  had  come  to  comfort  them  and 
to  say  good-by  to  them. 

He  could  n't  go  with  them.  He  had  got  to  stay 
behind  and  take  care  of  those  that  were  left.  For 
they  could  n't  all  come  at  once,  and  some  had  to 
leave  their  wives  and  children,  and  some  had 
to  leave  their  fathers  and  mothers  behind. 

Phil  understood  this,  because  he  remembered 
his  mother  used  to  tell  him  how. she  felt  when  she 
had  to  come  away  from  the  old  country  and  leave 
all  her  kin  behind. 

At  this  point  in  the  story  he  had  to  take  out 
a  cigarette  and  light  it.  For  though  Phil  was 
a  newsboy,  and  could  call  a  boy  when  he  was  lost 
and  had  politely  asked  him  the  way  a  "green- 
horn "  and  "cucumbers,"  he  was  n't  so  bad  a  fellow 
after  all.  And  whenever  he  thought  about  his 
mother,  and  how  she  had  died  in  great  want,  and 
he  could  n't  earn  money  enough  to  get  the  oranges 


THE  CHILDREN'S  EXCURSION.  263 

and  wine  the  doctor  talked  about,  it  always  made 
his  eyes  misty.  Being  a  manly  boy,  he  did  n't 
like  to  have  folks  see  his  misty  eyes,  and  the 
smoke  of  a  cigarette  would  hide  their  mistiness,  or, 
if  not,  would  offer  an  excuse  for  it. 

Though  that  was  by  no  means  Phil's  only 
reason  for  smoking  cigarettes.  The  truth  is  he 
had  formed  a  habit  of  liking  them. 

"  Take  one  ?  "  he  asked  of  Teddy. 

"No,  thanks,"  replied  Teddy,  who  had  never 
formed  that  habit. 

"  And  do  you  see  that  man  with  a  gun  in  his 
hand,  and  the  little  fellow  holding  on  to  him  ? 
He  is  waving  good-by  to  somebody  ashore.  And 
there  is  a  woman  kneeling  and  saying  a  prayer. 
Oh,  they  are  sorry  to  come  away ! 

"  And  here  in  this  panel  is  a  man  sitting  at  a 
table  writing.  This  is  The  Signing  of  the  Com- 
pact," Suzette  had  told  him.  When  they  signed 
the  Compact  the  Mayflower  lay  off  Provincetown. 
They  had  n't  been  on  shore.  "  You  can  see  Prov- 
incetown from  here,  sometimes,  Phil." 

"  Oh,  I  've  be'n  to  Provincetown,"  said  Phil.  "  I 
went  on  an  excursion  with  a  lot  of  other  newspaper 
boys,  an'  we  give  the  Provincetown  folks  fits,  you 
bet !  It 's  an  awful  sandy  place." 


264         LITTLE   PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

Of  course  Provincetown  was  n't  there  then, 
Teddy  went  on  to  say ;  it  had  n't  been  settled. 
"  There  wa'  n't  nobody  but  Injuns  there  then." 

"Injuns!"  exclaimed  Phil  just  as  Teddy  had 
done  when  Suzette  had  told  him  about  them. 
"  Did  Injuns  ever  live  here  ?  "  And  Teddy  had 
to  explain  a  little  about  the  Indians,  though  stick- 
ing mostly  to  the  story  of  the  panels. 

Before  they  went  ashore  at  Provincetown  they 
wrote  a  paper  promising  to  stick  together,  and  to 
make  laws  to  govern  themselves  by,  and  to  keep 
those  laws,  and  then  they  signed  it.  ,  Then  they 
chose  Mr.  Carver  to  be  their  Governor,  and  that 
was  he,  Teddy  thought,  who  was  standing  by  the 
table  with  his  hand  on  an  dpen  book,  the  Bible 
most  likely.  And  that  was  the  Compact,  the 
paper  they  signed,  lying  on  the  table.  It  was  a 
very  wonderful  paper,  Suzette  had  said.  "  It  was 
the  first  time  men  had  made  a  government  without 
a  king.  "  And  you  know,  Phil,  we  ain't  got  a  king; 
we  've  got  a  President."  And  the  man  standing 
there  was  Myles  Standish.  "  You  can  tell  him 
because  he  's  such  a  little  feller — little  but  smart." 

"He  was  an  awful  feller  for  Injuns,"  said 
Teddy.  "  Made  'em  stand  round.  He  was  a  real 
soldier.  The  rest  wa'  n't  real  soldiers.  They 


THE    CHILDREN'S  EXCURSION.  265 

wore  armor  though,  and  carried  guns,  because 
they  had  to,  or  the  Injuns  would  have  killed 
them  all. 

"And  this  picture,"  said  Teddy,  indicating  the 
third  panel,  "is  where  they  landed  on  the  rock. 
It 's  the  Landing.  It  was  winter,  and  that 's  why 
there  are  big  blocks  of  ice  in  the  panel.  It  was 
awfully  cold,  and  plenty  of  snow  and  ice. 

"And  see  'em  looking  all  round,  curious,  you 
know,  to  see  if  there  was  any  Injuns  or  wolves 
about,  or  anything.  But  there  wasn't  an  Injun 
close  by.  They  'd  all  died.  But  they  left  their 
cornfields,  an'  that 's  why  the  Pilgrims  come  to 
land  here  instead  of  somewhere  else :  because 
there  was  cleared  lands  an'  springs  of  good  water. 
They  did  n't  want  to  dig  wells,  an'  the  water 
was  n't  brought  in  from  South  Pond  then.  The 
Injuns  that  come  afterwards  to  see  'em  fived 
somewhere  else. 

"  An'  d'  y'  see  that  Pilgrim  with  his  hat  in  his 
hand,  lookin'  so  young  an'  handsome  ?  That 's 
John  Alden.  He  was  twenty-one  years  old  when 
he  come.  Suzette  thinks  lots  of  John  Alden. 

"  Here  's  some  Injuns  in  this  panel,"  indicating 
the  fourth  and  last.  "This  is  the  First  Treaty, 
an'  Massasoit  is  there  among  'em,  I  expect,  be- 


266        LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

cause  he  was  the  Injun  they  made  the  treaty  with. 
An*  't  was  made  over  on  Watson's  Hill.  I  '11  show 
you  the  place  by-m-by.  An'  there  's  Myles  Stand- 
ish  again.  He's  in  the  Landing  too.  He's 
everywhere." 

Then  they  walked  over  to  Burial  Hill  and  sat 
down  upon  a  seat.  And  Phil  asked  who  were  this 
Suzette  and  Dick  to  whom  Teddy  had  referred  so 
often.  And  Teddy  tried  to  tell  that  they  were 
just  the  nicest  and  best  boy  and  girl  he  ever  saw. 
But  he  found  it  difficult  to  give  adequate  expres- 
sion to  his  feeling  about  them. 

"Swell  ?"  suggested  Phil. 

"  No,"  replied  Ted.Hy  promptly ;  "  not  a  bit. 
Dick  is  just  such  a  boy  as  you  and  I  'd  like  to 
be,  Phil." 

Phil  did  n't  resent  the  implication  that  he  was 
n't  up  to  Teddy's  standard.  But  he  shook  his 
head  doubtfully. 

Luckily,  at  that  instant,  Dick  was  seen  coming 
down  the  path  leading  beside  the  seat  where  they 
sat.  He  was  alone,  for  Suzette,  as  we  know,  was 
entertaining  Maggie  Mather  and  Nora  O'Reilly. 

"  Halloo,  Teddy  !  "  he  said,  and  stopped,  looking 
inquiringly  at  Phil. 

Teddy  introduced  the  latter. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  EXCURSION.  267 

"This  is  the  newsboy  I  saw  in  Boston,  you 
know.  His  name  is  Phil  —  Phil  Wildsmith." 

"  So  you  are  the  fellow  that  called  Teddy  '  cu- 
cumbers,' are  you,  and  would  n't  show  him  the 
way  ? "  asked  Dick  ;  and  Phil  actually  blushed. 

"Well,  I  couldn't  help  it,"  he  replied  apologet- 
ically, "  he  did  look  so  awful  green."  And  then 
all  three  boys  laughed,  and  Dick  sat  down  on  the 
seat.  "  He 's  a  first-rate  chap  though,"  added 
Phil,  regarding  Teddy  in  friendly  fashion. 

Then  the  two  questioned  Phil  about  his  life, 
where  he  stayed  nights,  how  much  money  he 
earned,  and  so  on.  It  was  a  deeply  interesting 
story  but  has  no  place  here.  After  Dick  had 
left,  Phil  said,  "  He  's  a  good  feller.  But  what 's 
the  use  of  a  boy  like  me  tryin'  to  be  like  the  likes 
o'  him  ? " 

After  which  Teddy  took  him  down  to  the  little 
gray  house  and  introduced  him  to  little  Bess,  and 
he  could  not  have  done  more  than  that  to  show  his 
good-will  to  the  President  of  the  land. 


CHAPTER   XVII. 

THE   EQUINOCTIAL. 

—  the  tired  ploughman,  dry  and  warm, 

Hears,  half  asleep,  the  rising  storm 

Hurling  the  hail  and  sleeted  rain 

Against  the  casement's  tinkling  pane; 

The  sounds  that  drive  wild  deer  and  fox 

To  shelter  in  the  brake  and  rocks.  —  Scott. 

Often  I  think  of  the  beautiful  town 

That  is  seated  by  the  sea; 
Often  in  thought  go  up  and  down 
The  pleasant  streets  of  that  dear  old  town, 

And  my  youth  comes  back  to  me.      — Longfellow. 

T~VICK  had  not  been  present  to  hear  the  story 
•"-^  of  the  little  grandmother's  ride,  but  Suzette 
had  told  it  to  him  at  the  earliest  opportunity,  and 
they  cherished  the  hope  of  going  over  the  road 
with  uncle  Tom  some  day.  They  had  been  over 
it  many  times,  of  course,  but  that  was  before  they 
had  heard  this  interesting  story. 

The  day  came  and  the  morning.  It  was  in  late 
September.  It  was  a  fair  morning  with  a  hint  of 
foulness  in  the  fairness.  So  said  an  old  farmer 

268 


THE  EQUINOCTIAL,  269 

with  whom  uncle  Tom  stopped  to  talk  over  the 
fence  concerning  the  crops  and  certain  fat  poultry 
that  he  was  holding  in  reserve  for  the  doctor. 
The  equinoctial,  which  was  due  about  the  twen- 
tieth, he  said,  had  n't  got  along  yet,  and  when  it 
did  come  —  well,  well !  he  'd  seen  some  pretty 
severe  equinoctials  in  his  day,  and  when  they 
came  late  you  'd  got  to  look  out. 

As  well  as  they  could,  with  uncle  Tom's  assist- 
ance, the  two  measured  distances  and  located  the 
incidents  of  the  famous  ride  which,  to  them,  for 
the  time  being  at  least,  was  of  greater  importance 
than  that  famous  one  from  Ghent  to  Aix,  or  even 
Sheridan's  wild  gallop  down  the  Shenandoah 
Valley. 

This  was  where  Jack  came  up ;  here  was  where 
Molly  jumped  off  to  tighten  the  straps ;  there  was 
the  thicket,  the  very  thicket  from  out  which  the 
highwayman  leaped. 

"It  looks  as  though  there  might  be  one  in 
there  now,"  said  Suzette,  riding  up  to  it  and  peer- 
ing in,  almost  hoping  that  she  might  meet  the 
gaze  of  a  pair  of  daring  eyes ;  it  would  be  so  inter- 
esting, especially  with  uncle  Tom  and  Dick  com- 
fortably in  the  background. 

Uncle   Tom   would   not   spoil    her   fancies   by 


270         LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

the  suggestion  that  eighty  years,  more  or  less, 
having  elapsed  since  that  memorable  epoch,  the 
forest  must  have  changed.  Every  tree  of  it  had 
been  cut,  doubtless,  after  our  prodigal  American 
fashion,  and  all  this  was  a  fresh  growth.  But 
did  n't  everything  change  in  eighty  years  ?  Do 
not  we  ourselves  go  through  an  entire  change  of 
tissues  every  seven  years,  and  are  we  not  the 
same  ?  Some  people  are  so  anxious  for  the  exact 
facts  they  let  the  truth  slip.  Don't  spoil  the 
child's  pleasure  with  your  so-called  science. 
Changed  though  it  be,  this  is  the  forest  of  little 
Molly's  day  through  which  she  rode  so  gallantly 
on  a  fine  October  morning  nearly  a  hundred  years 
ago.  Thus  spake  uncle  Tom  to  himself,  and  he 
gave  heed  to  his  own  words  and  kept  silent. 

It  was  a  charming  morning  and  a  charming 
ride,  and  would  have  been  prolonged  indefinitely 
had  not  uncle  Tom  come  for  the  purpose  of  visit- 
ing patients  who  could  not  be  put  off. 

But  they  —  Dick  and  Suzette  —  would  go  on 
still  further  into  the  forest  beyond.  And  if  they 
did  not  get  back  by  the  time  uncle  Tom  was  ready 
to  return,  he  must  not  wait  nor  be  disturbed  by 
their  non-appearance.  They  had  a  lunch  in  their 
luncheon-case ;  it  was  a  fine  day,  and  if  the  equi- 


THE  EQUINOCTIAL.  2J\ 

noctial  was  indeed  brewing,  as  the  old  farmer  had 
said,  it  might  last  a  week  and  shut  them  in,  and 
they  would  make  the  most  of  this  fine  day ;  and 
uncle  Tom  assented.  So  good-by,  good-by  !  they 
said.  And  as  he  saw  them  disappear  into  the 
wood  he  thought,  as  he  had  fifty  times  before,  that 
there  never  was  a  finer  pair,  or,  in  the  words  of 
Jason,  "They  could  n't  be  beat." 

The  pleasures  of  a  ride  through  a  forest  are  not 
to  be  adequately  drawn  with  pen  and  ink.  You 
who  have  been  there  know  all  about  it.  You  who 
have  not  can  get  but  a  faint  idea,  from  anything  I 
may  write,  of  the  beauty  and  freshness,  the  tender 
gloom,  the  glancing  light,  the  gentle  rustlings  ;  of 
its  airy  palaces,  its  birds,  its  chattering  chip- 
munks, its  shy  squirrels  looking  down  upon  you 
at  one  moment,  the  next  off  through  their  aerial 
highways ;  its  rabbits,  that  sit  up  beside  the  path 
with  alert  ears,  and  look  at  you  ;  and,  as  in  this 
case,  its  deer,  beautiful  with  a  wild  grace,  lifting 
their  heads  high  above  the  underbrush  at  the 
sound  of  your  horse's  step. 

The  two  made  excursions  from  the  highway  into 
the  narrow,  winding  pathways  that  thread  this 
forest  like  network.  There  seemed  but  little,  if 
any,  danger  of  getting  lost,  for  they  were  accus- 


2/2         LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

tomed  to  judge  of  directions  by  the  sun  and  other 
signs.  But  when  the  sun  became  suddenly  ob- 
scured, as  it  did  towards  the  middle  of  the  after- 
noon, by  the  coming  on  of  what  is  locally  known 
as  a  "sea-turn,"  and  the  fog  settled  down  and  tool: 
possession  of  the  land,  so  that  even  six  feet  away 
the  trees  were  but  ghostly  shadows  of  themselves, 
then,  for  the  first  time,  the  possibility  of  going 
astray  dawned  upon  them. 

The  fog  came  down  upon  them,  unfortunately, 
while  they  were  exploring  one  of  the  sylvan  by- 
ways, and  they  were  utterly  at  a  loss  what  course 
to  take  to  find  the  highway.  The  fog  soon  turned 
into  a  dense  drizzle.  Night  seemed  to  come  on 
prematurely  and,  after  riding  hither  and  thither, 
seeking  vainly  the  way  of  escape,  and  at  last  con- 
cluding, by  unmistakable  signs,  that  they  had  only 
made  a  circuit  and  had  come  back  to  a  point  they 
had  started  from  a  half-hour  before,  they  came  to 
a  standstill,  looked  at  each  other,  and  said :  — 

"What  shall  we  do?" 

"And  what  will  Mehitable  say?  She  always 
said  we  should  get  lost  sometime." 

And  then  they  laughed. 

"  We  might  as  well  give  Castor  and  Pollux  their 
heads  and  let  them  go  as  they  like,"  said  Dick. 


THE  EQUINOCTIAL.  273 

"  Perhaps  they  '11  know  the  way.  It 's  as  bad  as  a 
blizzard  — almost." 

"  It 's  like  a  maze,"  replied  Suzette.  "  You  go 
round  and  round  and  can't  get  out.  I  don't  mind 
it  much.  Only  when  we  do  get  out  it  will  be  so 
late,  and  uncle  Tom  and  aunt  Pen  will  be  troubled 
about  us,  I  'm  afraid.  What  time  is  it,  Dick  ? " 

Dick  looked  at  his  watch. 

"  It 's  five  o'clock.  We  could  n't  get  back  any 
way  till  after  sunset,  and  it  '11  be  dark  early  to- 
night. Yes,  Sue,  we  '11  let  Castor  and  Pollux  go 
where  they  like  and  trust  them  to  get  us  out  of 
this." 

They  let  the  reins  lie  loosely  upon  the  horses' 
necks,  said  "  Go  on ! "  and  Castor  and  Pollux 
deliberately  turned  round  and  started  back  the 
way  they  had  just  come.  By  what  sign  they 
knew  that  in  fifteen  minutes  they  would  come  to 
a  curious  little  hut  in  the  wood,  half  woodman's 
cabin,  half  Indian  wigwam,  it  is  impossible  to  say. 
Was  it  instinct  or  was  it  knowledge  derived  from 
experience  ?  Certainly  not  the  latter,  for  they  had 
no  more  acquaintance  with  Plymouth  woods  than 
had  their  riders. 

But  whatever  it  was  it  proved  to  be  a  sure 
guide,  and  after  a  slow  trot  of  just  about  fifteen 


274         LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

minutes  they  came  out  into  an  open  glade  shut  in 
by  tall  trees,  but  out  of  which  the  underbrush  had 
been  carefully  cleared.  On  the  edge  of  this  open- 
ing nestled,  like  a  huge  sparrow's  nest,  this  non- 
descript hut. 

They  rode  up  to  the  door,  which  was  open. 

"  Is  it  the  bears'  house  ? "  asked  Suzette  glee- 
fully. "  Shall  we  go  in  ? " 

Dick  leaped  from  his  horse  and  looked  in. 

"  There  's  a  chair,"  he  said.  "  I  suppose  it 's  a 
chair  —  and  a  table  and  a  bed  and  a  kettle.  The 
fire  's  burning  and  the  kettle  is  boiling.  Whoever 
lives  here  is  n't  a  great  way  off.  Something  in  the 
kettle  smells  good.  I  guess  it 's  chowder." 

"  Oh,  oh  !  And  are  there  chairs  for  the  little 
bears  ? "  asked  Suzette. 

"  No,  only  one  chair  !     There  's  only  one  bear." 

"  And  there  he  comes  !  "  said  Suzette,  dropping 
her  voice.  "  Oh,  will  he  growl  ? " 

As  she  spoke,  out  from  the  wood  came  a  man 
trampling  down  the  underbrush  as  he  walked. 
He  had  an  armful  of  wood  and  stopped  abruptly 
as  he  caught  sight  of  the  two.  Dick  lifted  his 
cap  and  spoke. 

"We've  lost  our  way  in  the  fog,"  he  said, 
"  Can  you  tell  us  the  way  to  Plymouth  ? " 


THE  EQUINOCTIAL. 

"  Plymouth  !  You  're  a  long  way  from  Ply- 
mouth," replied  the  man.  His  voice  was  pleasing 
and  his  accent  refined.  As  he  spoke  they  saw 
that  he  was  a  young  man.  He  said  no  more,  but 
went  in,  put  down  the  wood,  fed  the  fire,  lifted  the 
pot-cover  and  looked  in.  Then  he  came  out. 

"  I  can  show  you  the  way,"  he  said,  "  but  you  'd 
better  come  in  and  get  dry  first." 

"Oh,  no,  thanks!"  Suzette  hastened  to  say, 
although  secretly  very  desirous  of  looking  into 
the  bear's  house.  "  They  '11  be  anxious  about  us 
at  home.  We  've  been  riding  ever  so  long  trying 
to  find  the  way.  We  ought  to  go  as  soon  as 
possible." 

"  But  it 's  a  long  way  ;  still  if  you  '11  come  in  a 
few  moments,  till  my  dinner  is  done,  I'll  show 
you." 

Suzette  took  this  remark  as  an  intimation  that 
the  dinner  might  spoil  if  left,  and  hesitated  no 
longer. 

She  sprang  from  her  horse  and  entered  the 
little  hut  —  the  sparrow's  nest  —  the  bear's  house. 
The  interior  was  somewhat  dim,  as  there  was  but 
one  small  window,  or  opening,  and  that  was  par- 
tially obscured  by  a  scrambling  woodbine.  The 
damp  wood  had  dulled  the  fire,  which  soon  blazed 


276        LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

up,  however,  lighting  up  the  cozy  nest  till  it 
glowed  like  the  heart  of  a  pink  rose. 

The  hut  was  of  rough  logs  with  the  bark  on. 
The  furniture  was  as  primitive  as  the  hut  and  bore 
marks  of  the  axe.  The  scrambling  woodbine  had 
found  its  way  in  and  had  caught  on  the  rough  bark 
here  and  there,  and  hung  in  festoons,  which  moved 
in  the  draughts  quite  like  the  arras  in  ancient 
novels.  A  bed  like  a  steamer  berth  was  in  one 
corner.  Near  by  where  Suzette  sat  upon  a  rough 
three-legged  stool  hung  a  book-shelf  with  books  ; 
und  she  observed,  with  a  great  access  of  curios- 
ity, that  the  larger  part  of  them  were  Greek  and 
Latin.  On  a  small  table  —  something  like  an 
overgrown  stool  —  lay  a  well-worn  copy  of  Wai- 
den.  All  these  details  were  made  distinctly  visi- 
ble by  the  ruddy  glow  of  the  fire. 

While  Suzette  made  these  observations,  Dick, 
who  had  seated  himself  on  a  block  of  wood,  was 
looking  at  their  host.  He  had  taken  off  the 
kettle  cover  and  was  extracting  from  it,  with  the 
help  of  a  wooden  spoon  and  sharpened  stick,  a  bit 
of  meat,  some  vegetables  and  broth,  which  he 
presently  offered  to  Suzette  on  a  wooden  plate, 
placing  it  upon  the  little  table  at  her  side. 

"  Oh,  how  delightful !  "   she  exclaimed.     "  It 's 


THE  EQUINOCTIAL.  277 

like  the  Pilgrim  trenchers  little  Humilitie  Cooper 
ate  from  !  "  and  then  stopped  abruptly,  fearing  lest 
she  had  not  been  exactly  courteous  in  her  out- 
burst. 

But  her  entertainer  smiled  as  he  laid  the 
wooden  spoon  on  her  plate.  "  Yes,  it  is  a  little 
like  it,"  he  said. 

Moved  to  still  further  confidence  by  his  kindli- 
ness she  ventured  to  say  :  "  And  your  house,  too, 
is  like  a  Pilgrim  house,  I  should  think,  only  — 
perhaps  not  so  large."  She  tasted  of  the  chow- 
der, which  proved  to  be  a  ragout  of  rabbit  credit- 
able to  the  culinary  skill  of  their  entertainer. 

"  Does  n't  it  ever  rain  in  ?  "  asked  Dick,  looking 
up  at  the  roof. 

"  No  ;  it  's  well  thatched,"  was  the  reply.  Then 
he  went  out  and  gave  a  handful  of  grass  to 
Castor  and  Pollux,  and  patted  their  noses  as 
though  he  loved  horses. 

Meanwhile  Suzette,  eating  the  ragout  of  rabbit 
and  nodding  now  and  then  to  Dick,  was  dying 
with  curiosity.  This  was  quite  like  visiting  John 
Alden  before  Priscilla  came  to  live  with  him. 
Who  could  this  young  man  be  ?  He  was  n't  one 
of  the  wood-choppers,  —  the  only  people  who  live 
in  Plymouth  woods  in  this  primitive  fashion.  — his 


278        LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

hands,  brown  but  well-shaped,  showed  that.  And 
then  wood-choppers  do  not  commonly  read  Greek, 
neither  do  they  camp  in  such  lovely  forest  glades. 
They  prefer  to  live  on  the  edge  of  their  particular 
wood  lot,  where  they  can  contemplate  at  their 
leisure  the  ghastly  stumps  and  general  ruin  they 
have  wrought. 

Right  in  the  centre  of  the  open  glade  where 
the  sun  must  fall  warmest  during  the  day  was  a 
small  garden  patch  well  cultivated.  The  beans  in 
the  ragout  doubtless  were  grown  there. 

Never  was  Suzette  so  tempted  to  break  over  all 
laws  of  etiquette  and  ask  their  host  who  he  was, 
and  how  he  happened  to  be  living  just  here  and 
after  this  fashion.  Lucky  for  them,  however,  that 
he  was,  or  they  might  have  wandered  all  night  in 
the  forest  maze. 

She  finished  the  ragout,  and  after  he  had 
washed  the  trencher  and  spoon  he  offered  some 
to  Dick.  It  was  evident  from  the  limited  supply  of 
trenchers  that  guests  came  seldom,  if  ever,  to  this 
hermitage  in  the  wilderness. 

"How  far  is  it  to  Plymouth  village  ?"  asked 
Dick,  after  he  had  eaten. 

"  About  six  miles,"  was  the  reply.  "  If  I  had  a 
horse  I  would  go  with  you  to  the  end  of  the  woods, 


THE  EQUINOCTIAL.  279 

but  as  it  is  I  can  walk.  There  's  no  doubt  you'll 
come  out  all  right  when  you  once  get  into  the 
road.  And  then  you  '11  get  on  faster  without  me." 

It  was  a  long  tramp  to  the  road,  however,  and 
when  they  reached  it  their  host  turned  the  horses' 
heads  in  the  right  direction.  "  There,  you  've 
nothing  to  do  now  but  go  straight  ahead  ; "  and  he 
lifted  his  hat  of  shabby  felt  and  disappeared  before 
they  had  a  chance  to  thank  him. 

"  Did  you  see  the  goat,  Dick,  tied  close  by  the 
path  ? "  asked  Suzette. 

"Yes;  what  jolly  fun  it  must  be!'*  responded 
Dick. 

"  Yes ;  I  made  believe  all  the  time  that  he  was 
John  Alden  before  Priscilla  came.  If  it  were 
only  a  little  bigger  'twould  be  just  like  a  Pilgrim 
house.  I  'm  glad  we  got  lost,  Dick,"  said  Suzette, 
whose  ugly  ducks  always  turned  out  swans.  "  Oh, 
what  a  thing  it  will  be  to  tell  little  Bess  !  " 

They  spoke  but  little  after  that,  but  rode  on  at 
a  rapid  gallop.  The  fog  was  still  dense,  and  they 
could  see  but  a  few  feet  in  advance.  There  was 
no  mistaking  the  wide,  well-trodden  road,  however. 
To  ride  rapidly  in  a  dense  fog  is  a  very  curious 
sensation.  Every  step  of  solid  ground  is  a  con- 
tinual surprise.  Everything  has  so  much  the 


28O         LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

appearance  of  being  about  to  dissolve  that  you 
expect  every  moment  to  make  a  final  plunge  into 
a  bottomless  abyss. 

At  times  where  the  woods  were  thick  the  dark- 
ness was  intense.  Then  all  of  a  sudden  the  fog 
would  grow  thin  and  luminous.  Just  before  reach- 
ing the  end  of  the  woods  they  heard  a  faint 
"  Hallo ! "  They  reined  in  their  horses  and 
listened.  Again  it  came,  and  this  time  in  uncle 
Tom's  voice.  Dick  responded  "  Hallo ! "  And 
directly  out  from  the  fog  in  front  of  them  came 
Queen  Ann  bringing  uncle  Tom  with  Jason  be- 
side him. 

"  Well,  v/ell ! "  said  uncle  Tom  joyfully.  "  Here 
you  are* at  last.  We  've  shouted  ourselves  hoarse, 
Jason  and  I.  Come,  get  in  here,  pussy,  out  of  the 
rain  and  let  Jason  ride  Pollux.  No  ?  Well,  come 
on  then.  We  must  n't  lose  any  time,  for  you 
must  be  wet  to  the  skin." 

Before  they  reached  home  the  rising  storm  of 
wind  was  fast  dispersing  the  mist,  and  that  night 
they  did  not  stop  to  water  Castor  and  Pollux  at 
the  Pilgrim  spring. 

A  great  wood-fire  was  blazing  in  the  parlor,  and 
in  the  kitchen  Mehitable  had  ready  a  tea-kettle  of 
boiling  water  to  pour  over  a  mixture  of  ginger, 


THE  EQUINOCTIAL.  281 

molasses,  and  cream  the  moment  she  should  hear 
the  tramp  of  the  horses,  and  two  bowls  of  scalding- 
hot  but  delicious  ginger  tea  were  at  once  pre- 
sented to  the  two  wanderers,  with  the  injunction 
to  swallow  it  instantly  without  stopping  to  take 
breath.  Mehitable,  in  her  joy  at  their  safe  return, 
so  long  anxiously  awaited,  forgot  to  say  to  Jason, 
"  I  told  you  so." 

After  their  damp  clothing  had  been  changed  for 
dry,  and  they  were  all  comfortably  seated  around 
the  fire,  Suzette  on  a  hassock  at  uncle  Tom's  knee, 
they  told  about  the  Robinson  Crusoe  hut  they  had 
found. 

"  It  must  be  young  Ingersol,"  said  uncle  Tom. 
"  He  's  gone  into  Plymouth  woods  somewhere  to 
spend  his  vacation.  Came  down  from  Cambridge 
and  gave  out  that  he  did  n't  want  to  see  anybody. 
He  's  got  a  Thoreau  bee  in  his  bonnet.  Is  going 
to  see  how  little  he  can  get  on  with.  High  time, 
too,  if  all  I  hear  is  true.  He  's  been  in  Harvard 
two  years  and  has  managed  to  use  up  twenty  thou- 
sand. He  was  born  with  a  gold  spoon  in  his 
mouth  and  set  with  diamonds  at  that.  It 's  a  pity 
he  could  n't  have  a  little  genuine  rough  ing-it  in- 
stead of  make-believe,"  said  uncle  Tom,  who  has 
the  English  idea  that  it  is  good  for  boys  and  young 


282         LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

men  to  go  through  a  little  tough  and  rough 
fighting. 

"  He  makes  capital  rabbit  ragout,"  said  Dick. 

"  Does  he,  now  !  well,  that 's  something  worth 
hearing.  I  hope  he  burns  his  fingers  now  and 
then  cooking.  It  '11  do  him  good,"  said  uncle 
Tom,  failing  in  sympathy  with  this  modern  hermit. 

"  Oh,  but,  uncle  Tom,  it  was  like  a  Pilgrim 
house,  with  the  dearest  little  wooden  trencher  to 
eat  off ! "  Uncle  Tom  affectionately  patted  the 
head  at  his  knee. 

But  the  equinoctial  was  destined  to  bring  other 
interests  to  uncle  Tom's  door. 

At  dawn  the  next  morning  the  door-bell  rang. 
Uncle  Tom,  who  had  passed  a  somewhat  restless 
night  and  was  up,  answered  it,  and  aunt  Pen,  who 
had  also  not  slept  well,  heard  an  exclamation,  a 
laugh,  a  hearty  "  How  are  you  ? "  and  hastened 
down  to  find  two  dear  old  friends  whom  they  had 
not  seen  for  twenty — for  thirty  —  for  a  hundred 
years  !  How  long  was  it  ? 

"For  just  twenty,"  was  the  reply. 

And  how  had  they  chanced  to  arrive  at  this 
most  unseasonable  hour  —  and  by  what  convey- 
ance had  they  come  ? 

"By  a  Cunarder.     This   is   the   back   door   to 


THE  EQUINOCTIAL.  283 

Boston,  it  seems.  We  awoke  this  morning  off 
Manomet ;  drifted  down  in  the  fog,  the  captain 
mistaking  the  lights,"  replied  he  whom  uncle 
Tom  addressed  as  Ned.  "  Some  good  fellows 
came  off  to  offer  help,  and  we  availed  ourselves 
of  the  chance  to  be  taken  off." 

Uncle  Tom  seemed  like  a  happy  boy  that  day, 
Suzette  thought,  he  was  so  overjoyed  with  this 
unexpected  arrival  of  an  old  and  dear  friend. 

"  Your  last  letter  said  nothing  about  your  com- 
ing so  soon,  Ned,"  he  said. 

"  No,  we  had  n't  thought  of  it.  But  we  are  go- 
ing to  take  the  lease  of  an  old  country  estate  in 
England  in  November,  and  Kate  here  wanted  to 
have  a  sight  of  the  dear  old  places  once  more  be- 
fore settling  down  for  a  term  of  years ;  and  so, 
behold  us  !  " 

In  the  days  that  followed  there  were  long  talks, 
especially  in  the  evenings,  when  Suzette  from  her 
station  by  uncle  Tom's  side  listened  to  the  advent- 
ures of  these  two  in  foreign  and  distant  lands.  It 
seemed  to  her  they  had  been  almost  everywhere. 

On  one  delightful  evening  the  proposition  was 
made  to  uncle  Tom  of  coming  over  with  aunt  Pen 
when  they  —  Ned  and  Kate  —  were  fairly  estab- 
lished in  their  English  home  and  making  a  long 
visit. 


284         LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

"  How  long  is  it  since  you  were  abroad,  Tom  ?  " 
asked  Ned. 

"  Not  since  my  college  days,"  was  the  reply. 

"  It 's  high  time  then,  my  dear  fellow,  you  took  a 
vacation  off.  Nothing  would  please  Kate  and  me 
more  than  having  you  with  us  a  year,  eh,  Kate  ? " 
and  Kate  smiled  affectionately  at  aunt  Pen. 

"  I  've  been  thinking  a  little  about  it,"  was  uncle 
Tom's  reply.  "  Richard  is  talking  of  going  over 
another  year.  His  wife  is  French,  you  know. 
And  he  has  been  urging  Pen  and  me  to  go." 

This  was  the  first  intimation  Suzette  and  Dick 
had  had  of  any  such  plan,  and  Suzette  turned  a 
face  of  delighted  inquiry  on  uncle  Tom. 

"Yes,  and  you,  too,  pussy,  and  Dick.  Bless 
me !  do  you  think  you  two  could  be  left  behind  ? 
We  '11  follow  the  Mayflower  back  to  its  old  home. 
This  is  a  little  Pilgrim  enthusiast,"  he  said,  turn- 
ing back  to  Ned,  who  had  successfully  prosecuted 
an  acquaintance  with  Suzette  in  the  intervals 
when  Doctor  Tom's  absence  had  left  him  to  the 
feminine  portion  of  the  family,  and  who  replied 
with  a  smile  :  — 

"  Yes,  I  have  learned  that.  And  I  promise  to 
show  you  the  Pilgrim  homes  of  England.  You 
shall  see  them  to  your  heart's  content,  my  little 
Suzette." 


THE   EQUINOCTIAL.  285 

"  And  I,  pussy,  will  go  with  you  to  Leyden  and 
their  Holland  homes,"  promised  uncle  Tom.  After 
that  Suzette  could  only  keep  silent,  feeling  that 
her  cup  of  bliss,  present  and  to  come,  was  just 
running  over. 

One  day  they  went  on  the  promised  ride  to  the 
old  farm  at  Halifax,  the  life-long  home  of  the  little 
grandmother,  which  had  been  almost  as  dear  to 
the  boy  Ned  as  to  the  boy  Tom.  The  trip  was 
entirely  satisfactory,  with  one  rather  important 
exception.  The  old  house  was  but  little  changed, 
and  there  was  still  a  crowd  of  outlying  buildings, 
though  the  cider-mill  and  the  sheep-cotes  had 
vanished.  But  the  disappearance  of  these,  Suzette 
would  not  have  minded,  if  only  the  cat  holes  had 
been  left.  But,  alas !  the  present  owner  had 
closed  them.  To  be  sure  the  traces  of  them  were 
there.  You  could  see  there  had  been  cat  holes; 
but  the  holes  themselves  had  vanished  —  not  into 
thin  air  but  into  solid  painted  pine.  Why  had  he 
closed  them  ?  was  asked. 

"  Because  he  was  afraid  other  animals  might 
enter  besides  the  cats." 

"  What  animals  ?  "  But  he  did  not  know  ;  he 
had  not  got  so  far  as  to  give  definite  shapes  to  his 
fears. 


CHAPTER   XVIII. 

A    LARK    WITH    UNCLE    TOM. 

Wild  was  the  day;   the  wintry  sea 

Moaned  sadly  on  New  England's  strand, 
When  first,  the  thoughtful  and  the  free, 

Our  fathers  trod  the  desert  land. 

—  Bryant. 

TVJOTHING  could  have  been  further  from 
*  ^  "  wintry,"  or  more  unlike  a  "  desert," 
than  was  the  aspect  of  sea  and  land  upon  that 
morning  in  early  October  when  uncle  Tom  at  last 
got  off  for  the  long-promised  lark  —  an  all  day's 
sail  around  the  bay  in  the  track  of  the  Mayflower, 
and  in  his  own  small  yacht,  the  Seagull. 

He  had  tried  for  this  many  times  during  the 
summer,  but  always  somebody  had  been  taken  ill 
at  the  last  moment,  "jest  out  o'  spite,"  said  Me- 
hitable.  Once,  even,  they  had  pushed  off,  and  in 
five  minutes  would  have  been  too  far  away  for  a 
recall,  when  a  man  was  seen  running  down  the 
wharf,  waving  his  hat  and  shouting.  It  was  the 
grandson  of  "  old  Mis'  Keziah  Holmes  up  to 

386 


A   LARK   WITH  UNCLE   TOM.  287 

Manimet."  It  was  on  this  occasion^  that  Suzette 
remarked  to  Dick,  as  they  walked  disconsolately 
back  to  the  house,  "  Whatever  else  we  may  be, 
Dick,  don't  let  's  be  doctors." 

Dick  and  Suzette  had  been  out  in  a  boat  many 
times  during  the  summer  and  had  found  it  as 
exhilarating  as  riding  —  something  like  it,  in  fact, 
but  with  this  difference,  that,  in  the  former  case, 
they  rode  upon  the  back  of  the  waves.  Their 
sails,  however,  had  been  brief  and  limited  to  the 
harbor. 

But  to-day  a  large  hamper  of  provisions  was  in 
the  cabin,  and  both  Jason  and  Teddy  were  with 
them.  They  had  asked  that  Teddy  might  go,  and 
uncle  Tom  had  engaged  him  to  help  with  the 
yacht,  for  he  was  a  capital  boatman. 

The  breeze  was  steady  and  off-shore,  and  the 
Seagull,  spreading  her  white  wings,  skimmed  over 
the  water  as  gracefully,  if  not  quite  as  swiftly,  as 
did  her  namesake  through  the  blue  air  above. 

They  sailed  out  to  the  fishing-grounds  and  an- 
chored. When  Bartholomew  Gosnold,  who  gave 
to  the  promontory  and  bay  the  name  of  Cape 
Cod,  was  here,  in  1602,  the  codfish  were  so  plenty 
that  he  "pestered"  his  vessel  with  them.  But 
that  was  not  the  case  upon  this  day  of  which  I 


288         LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

write,  though  they  rose  obedient  enough  to  the 
hook,  and  a  sufficient  number  were  soon  caught 
for  the  chowder  which  Jason —  who  was  as  good  a 
hand  at  the  making  as  Mehitable  —  was  to  cook 
for  their  dinner  over  the  little  sea-stove  in  the 
cabin. 

Then  up  sail  and  away  again  !  —  down  near  the 
Pilgrims'  Cummaquid  (Barnstable)  and  within  sight 
of  Nauset,  the  place  of  "The  First  Encounter"  and 
the  sojourn  of  John  Billington,  hovering  for  a  little 
time  off  Provincetown,  and  full  of  speculations  as 
to  what  little  Humilitie  Cooper  and  John  Billing- 
ton  and  Mary  Allerton  had  thought  about  it  all, 
and  trying  to  picture  how  it  must  have  looked  in 
that  wintry  weather  of  1620,  with  tall  trees  where 
the  sand  is  now,  and  the  hostile  Indians  peeping 
from  behind  them.  Uncle  Tom,  as  he  endeavored 
to  answer  all  the  questions  propounded  by  the 
two,  and  to  sympathize  with  all  their  suppositions, 
declared  he  felt  as  a  "  Notes  and  Queries  col- 
umn "  might.  Teddy  had  a  new  and  interesting 
lesson  in  history,  though  he  did  not  know  it 
under  that  name. 

From  the  spires  of  Provincetown  they  sailed 
straight  back  across  the  bay,  dining  by  the  way 
with  great  appetites,  and  made  their  first  landing 


A  LARK  WITH  UNCLE   TOM.  289 

at   the   Gurnet  to   look  at   the  lights   and  walk 
about. 

This  name,  Gurnet,  came  originally  from  the 
gurnet  fish,  which  abound  off  the  coast  of  Devon- 
shire, England,  where  are  many  headlands  so 
called.  And  it  was  from  one  of  these,  probably, 
that  the  Pilgrims  named  this  headland  of  New 
England. 

But  there  is  a  much  earlier  historical  interest 
attaching  to  this  spot.  Thorwald,  the  brother  of 
Leif,  and  son  of  Eric  the  Red,  those  bold  and 
hardy  Northmen  who  explored  the  coast  of  New 
England  about  the  year  1000,  and  the  story  of 
whose  exploits  is  preserved  in  the  Icelandic  Sagas 
—  Thorwald,  in  the  spring  of  1004,  proceeding 
northward  after  spending  the  winter  at  Vinland, 
near  Mount  Hope  Bay,  was  driven  by  a  gale  on 
the  shore  of  Cape  Cod.  After  repairing  his  dis- 
abled vessel  he  sailed  directly  west  and  came  to  a 
promontory  the  loveliness  of  which  so  charmed 
him,  says  the  Saga,  that  he  said  to  his  compan- 
ions :  "  This  is  a  beautiful  spot,  and  here  I  should 
like  to  fix  my  dwelling."  This  spot  was  the 
Gurnet. 

The  admiration  of  Thorwald   may  seem   exag- 
gerated to  us,  as  it  did  to  Suzette,  when  we  see 


290         LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

the  Gurnet  of  to-day,  for  in  itself  it  is  a  somewhat 
barren  spot,  being  destitute  of  trees,  though  the 
soil  is  deep  and  rich.  But  it  has  the  never-failing 
charm  of  the  neighborhood  of  the  sea,  and  at  the 
time  that  Thorwald  visited  it,  as  uncle  Tom 
reminded  Suzette,  it  was  probably  covered  with 
trees  and  shrubs  —  the  oak  and  walnut  and  sweet- 
smelling  juniper  —  as  were  the  beach  and  Clark's 
Island.  Then,  too,  we  must  remember  that 
Thorwald  came  from  Greenland.  And  though  the 
climate  of  Greenland  was  many  degrees  milder 
then  than  now,  yet  so  was  that  of  New  England, 
and,  lying  so  much  farther  south,  it  must  have  had 
an  almost  tropical  beauty  in  Thorwald's  eyes  and 
seemed  a  very  paradise  to  him. 

At  any  rate,  as  the  Saga  says,  he  found  this 
headland  a  most  entrancing  spot,  and  when, 
shortly  after,  he  was  mortally  wounded  by  a 
poisoned  arrow  shot  by  an  Indian,  he  asked  to 
be  carried  back  there  and  buried  "where  I 
thought  it  good  to  dwell.  It  may  be  it  was  a 
prophetic  word  which  fell  from  my  mouth  about 
abiding  there  for  a  season.  There  shall  ye  bury 
me,  and  place  a  cross  at  my  head  and  another  at 
my  feet,  and  call  that  place  forevermore  Krossa- 
ness  "  (Cross  Cape). 


A  LARK  WITH  UNCLE   TOM.  29 1 

And  so,  after  he  died,  it  was  done  as  he  had 
said.  There  is  a  headland  in  the  neighborhood 
of  Boston  that  claims  to  be  Krossa-ness,  but  no 
descendant  of  the  Pilgrims  ever  admits  that 
claim  for  an  instant,  aunt  Pen  told  Suzette  when 
relating  to  her  this  beautiful  legend.  The  true. 
Krossa-ness  is  the  Gurnet.  And,  perched  upon 
the  highest  part  of  the  bluff,  Suzette  and  Dick 
had  a  vision  that  day  of  a  vessel,  strange  in  shape, 
and  manned  by  blue-eyed,  fair-haired  sea  kings, 
who  "never  sought  shelter  under  a  roof,  or 
drained  their  drinking  horn  by  a  cottage  fire," 
but  who  without  fear  sailed  their  ships,  destitute 
of  chart  or  compass,  steering  by  the  sun  by  day 
and  the  stars  by  night,  and  when,  by  reason  of 
cloud  or  fog,  these  failed  them,  trusting  only  to 
chance. 

By  six  hundred  years  the  arrival  of  that  strange 
bark  had  preceded  that  of  the  Mayflower.  And 
at  this  thought  Suzette  began  to  regard  the  com- 
ing of  the  Pilgrims  as  a  very  recent  event  indeed. 

But  it  soon  retook  its  former  place  in  her  mind, 
as  they  again  embarked  and  sailed  slowly  along  by 
the  cove  which  lies  between  the  Gurnet  and 
Saquish,  wherein  the  exploring  shallop  came  so 
near  being  wrecked  in  the  night  and  storm  of 


292 


LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 


1620.  Her  mast  was  broken  in  three  pieces, 
and  it  was  with  great  difficulty  that  she  escaped 
and  came  to  anchor  close  under  the  shelter  of 
what  is  now  Clark's  Island.  The  Pilgrims  did 
not  know  it  was  an  island,  however,  until  the 
coming  of  dawn  revealed  it  to  them,  and  all 
night  were  in  great  dread  of  Indians,  for  their 
firearms  were  so  drenched  with  water  as  to  be 
useless.  But  when  morning  came,  they  found  no 
Indians,  and  nothing  more 
inhospitable  than  snow  and 
ice.  It  was  Saturday,  and 
they  passed  the  day  in 
mending  their  shallop  and 
cleaning  their  firearms. 
The  next  day  being  the 
Sabbath,  they  "rested." 

The  story  of  this  peril- 
ous night  is  told  so  charmingly  by  Governor 
Bradford  in  his  History,  in  such  pure  and  simple 
English,  that  it  can  not  be  repeated  too  often. 

After  "The  First  Encounter,"  they  took  boat 
and  coasted  along  the  shores  of  Cape  Cod,  but 
without  finding  any  suitable  harbor  wherein  to  cast 
anchor  and  go  on  shore.  At  last  the  pilot,  who 
had  been  in  the  country  before,  told  them  of  a 


A  LARK  WITH  UNCLE   TOM.  293 

place  not  far  away  where  there  was  an  excellent 
harbor,  and  he  accordingly  turned  the  boat  in  that 
direction. 

"After  some  hours'  sailing,  it  began  to  snow  and 
rain,  and  about  the  middle  of  the  afternoon  the 
wind  increased  and  the  sea  became  very  rough 
and  they  broke  their  rudder  and  it  was  as  much  as 
two  men  could  do  to  steer  her  with  a  couple  of 
oars. 

"But  their  pilot  bade  them  be  of  good  cheer, 
for  he  saw  the  harbor  ;  but  the  storm  increasing 
and  night  drawing  on,  they  bore  what  sail  they 
could  to  get  in  while  they  could  see.  But  here- 
with they  broke  their  mast  in  three  pieces  and 
their  sails  fell  overboard  in  a  very  grown  sea,  so 
as  they  had  like  to  have  been  cast  away  ;  yet  by 
God's  mercy  they  recovered  themselves  and  having 
the  flood  with  them  struck  into  the  harbor. 

"  But  when  it  came  to,  the  pilot  was  de- 
ceived in  the  place,  and  said,  the  Lord  be  merciful 
unto  them,  for  his  eyes  never  saw  the  place 
before,  and  he  and  the  master  mate  would  have 
run  her  ashore  in  a  cove  full  of  breakers  before 
the  wind.  But  a  lusty  seaman  who  steered,  bade 
those  who  rowed  if  they  were  men,  about  with 
her,  or  else  they  were  all  cast  away  ;  the  which 
they  did  with  speed. 


294        LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

"So  he  bade  them  be  of  good  cheer  and  row 
lustily,  for  there  was  a  fair  sound  before  them  and 
he  doubted  not  but  they  should  find  one  place  or 
other  where  they  might  ride  in  safety.  And 
though  it  was  very  dark  and  rained  sore,  yet  in 
the  end  they  got  under  the  lee  of  a  small  island 
and  remained  there  all  the  night  in  safety. 

"But  they  knew  not  this  to  be  an  island  till 
morning,  but  were  divided  in  their  minds ;  some 
would  keep  the  boat  for  fear  they  might  be  among 
Indians ;  others  were  so  weak  and  cold  they  could 
not  endure,  but  got  ashore,  and  with  much  ado  got 
fire  (all  things  being  so  wet)  and  the  rest  were 
glad  to  come  to  them  ;  for  after  midnight  the 
wind  shifted  to  the  north-west  and  it  froze  hard. 

"  But  though  this  had  been  a  day  and  night  of 
much  trouble  and  danger  unto  them,  yet  God 
gave  them  a  morning  of  comfort  and  refreshing  (as 
usually  he  doth  to  his  children),  for  the  next  day 
was  a  fair  sunshiny  day,  and  they  found  them 
selves  to  be  on  an  island  secure  from  the  Indians, 
where  they  might  dry  their  stuff,  fix  their  pieces 
and  rest  themselves,  and  gave  God  thanks  for  his 
mercies  in  their  manifold  deliverances  ,  and  this 
being  the  last  day  of  the  week  they  prepared  there 
to  keep  the  Sabbath." 


A  LARK  WITH  UNCLE   TOM. 


295 


At  first  they  thought  of  settling  there,  and 
looking  no  further.  The  security  of  the  place 
pleased  them.  It  was  far  away  from  Indians. 
But,  on  the  other  hand,  there  were  no  springs  or 
running  streams  such  as  they  afterward  found  in 
Plymouth,  and  they  feared  a  scarcity  of  water  in 


time  of  drought.  Then,  too,  there  were  no  cleared 
spaces  in  which  to  plant  corn.  The  island  was 
covered  with  a  forest  of  red  cedars  and  it  would 
take  a  long  time  to  render  even  a  small  part  of 
it  fit  for  planting.  So,  on  the  whole,  they 
thought  it  best  to  look  further.  The  island  was 
afterwards  named  for  the  mate  of  the  Mayflower, 
who  was  with  them,  which  name  it  retains  to  this 
day. 


296         LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

As  the  Seagull  rounded  Saquish  Point,  the 
small  island  lay  just  before  them,  no  longer  woody, 
but  smooth  and  round  and  full-fleeced  as  the  sheep 
that  were  feeding  upon  its  fat  pastures.  It  is  a 
gem  of  an  island,  green  in  summer  as  an  emerald. 

The  Seagull  dropped  her  sails  beside  a  small 
pier,  and  they  landed  and  went  further  into  the 
island  to  see  a  great  rock  upon  which  is  cut  this 
legend  :  Here  wee  rested.  This  is  called  Pulpit 
Rock. 

"  And  did  the  Pilgrims  hold  their  services  that 
Sunday  here  by  this  rock  ?  "  asked  Suzette. 

"  It  is  not  probable,"  replied  uncle  Tom.  "  The 
probability  is  they  held  them  on  the  shore  in  the 
neighborhood  of  their  boat,  perhaps  in  the  boat." 

"And  they  sang?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  they  sang,"  said  uncle  Tom.  "  The 
One  Hundredth  Psalm,  doubtless,  Luther's  psalm. 
It  was  quaintly  paraphrased,  of  course,  after  the 
fashion  of  the  time,  and  they  sang  the  air  which 
we  know  as  Old  Hundred." 


Amidst  the  storm  they  sang: 

And  the  stars  heard  and  the  sea ; 
And  the  sounding  aisles  of  the  dim  woods  rang 

To  the  anthem  of  the  free. 


A  LARK  WITH  UNCLE    TOM. 

That  poem  of  Mrs.  Hemans,  the  most  perfect 
poem  that  has  yet  been  penned  upon  our  Pilgrim 
Fathers,  had  always  been  a  great  favorite  with 
Dick  and  Suzette,  and  she  repeated  the  four  lines 
with  animation  while  uncle  Tom  nodded  approval. 

They  strolled  through  the  paths  of  the  leafy 
grove,  sole  representative  of  the  lost  forest  of 
cedars  with  its  "  sounding  aisles,"  and  sat  for  a 
short  time  under  its  shade. 

"  I  hate  to  go  away,  it  is  such  a  lovely  place," 
said  Suzette. 

"  Life  is  punctuated  with  pleasant  stops  like 
this,"  replied  uncle  Tom;  "but  we  always  have 
to  move  on." 

Then  they  took  boat  again,  and  spreading  her 
white  wings  to  the  utmost,  the  Seagull  flew  over 
the  bay  to  Captain's  Hill. 

They  did  not  land  at  the  pier  at  Captain's  Hill, 
but  skirted  along  the  shore.  Here  innumerable 
seals  were  playing,  bobbing  their  round,  black 
heads  out  of  the  water  like  so  many  boys.  It  was 
high  tide,  and  they  sailed  a  little  way  up  Jones 
River.  It  was  just  after  sailing  out  from  the 
mouth  of  that  river  that  they  discovered  that  a 
baby  seal  was  following  them,  barking  at  intervals 
like  a  little  dog.  It  reached  the  yacht  and  tried 


298         LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

to  clamber  in  in  awkward  fashion.  It  had  a 
most  beseeching,  winning  look  in  its  brown  eyes, 
and  Suzette  begged,  "Do  take  it  in,  uncle  Tom." 

And  uncle  Tom  lending  a  hand,  the  small  creat- 
ure tumbled  in  and  waddled  along  to  Suzette's 
feet,  and  seemed  greatly  pleased  when  she  patted 
its  damp  head. 

"  I  wonder  where  the  mother  can  be,"  said 
uncle  Tom.  "  I  hope  she  has  n't  deserted  it." 

"  Oh,  if  she  has,  uncle  Tom,  we  can  take  it  for 
a  pet !  It 's  too  big  for  the  aquarium,  but  it 's  a 
dear  little  thing ; "  and  Suzette  patted  its  head 
again,  and  thereupon  it  tried  to  scramble  up  into 
her  lap.  It  was  not  large  for  a  seal  —  perhaps 
two  feet  long — but  it  was  a  huge  lapful. 

"  You  'd  find  it  a  difficult  pet  to  care  for,"  re- 
plied uncle  Tom.  "  One  of  the  boys  brought  one 
in  one  day.  It  followed  his  boat  just  as  this  one 
has  done,  and  he  took  it  in  and  brought  it  home, 
and  tried  to  feed  it  with  milk  from  a  bottle.  But 
it  ate  but  little.  It  used  to  follow  him  about  the 
shore,  and  cried  like  a  baby.  He  kept  it  in  a  boat 
house,  and  used  to  put  it  in  the  water  and  try  to 
make  it  swim  off  in  search  of  its  mother.  But  it 
would  n't.  It  liked  to  be  held  in  arms  like  a  baby, 
too.  But  after  a  little  it  died." 


A   LARK  WITH  UNCLE    TOM.  299 

"  I  do  hope  the  mother  will  come  for  this  one, 
then,"  said  Suzette. 

And  presently  they  saw  her  swimming  rapidly 
behind  them,  and  when  she  came  alongside  the 
Seagull  uncle  Tom  lifted  up  the  baby  and 
dropped  it  beside  her.  She  clasped  it  tightly 
with  her  flippers,  though  the  little  creature 
struggled  to  get  away,  and  cried  out  after  the 
yacht. 

It  was  sunset  when  at  last  the  Seagull  drew 
near  Long  Wharf  and  dropped  her  sails.  The 
sky  was  flushed  with  the  rosy  pink  of  the  after- 
glow, in  which  innumerable  little  clouds  were 
floating  like  a  fleet  of  golden  argosies.  This 
beautiful  tint  was  reflected  in  the  water,  so  that 
the  yacht  seemed  to  float  between  two  seas  of 
color,  the  one  transparent  and  fixed,  the  other 
flowing  and  opaque. 

Over  the  last  Suzette  was  leaning,  wondering  at 
the  depth  of  color,  and  if  it  were  rosy  pink  clear 
through  and  through  to  the  muddy  bottom  — 
when  somehow,  nobody  knew  just  how,  she  lost 
her  balance  and  plunged  headlong,  and  the  tran- 
quil water  t^roke  into  numberless  ripples  like 
scattered  rose  petals  as  it  closed  over  her. 

Teddy  was  after  her  in  an   instant,  and  Dick 


3OO         LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

would  have  followed  had  not  uncle  Tom  seized 
him  and  held  him  fast  while  both  he  and  Jason 
stood  with  their  eyes  fixed  upon  the  spot  where 
the  two  had  gone  down,  ready  to  help  them  when 
they  should  come  up.  In  a  brief  instant,  although 
it  seemed  like  an  age  to  the  three  watchers,  Su- 
zette's  head  appeared  above  the  water.  With  a 
motion  like  that  of  a  spaniel,  she  shook  the  salt 
sea-drops  from  her  eyes,  and,  catching  sight  of 
the  eager,  anxious  faces  in  the  yacht,  called 
cheerfully  as  she  struck  boldly  out,  "  Just  see 
me  swim,  uncle  Tom  !  It 's  splendid  !  "  And,  as 
she  seized  the  outstretched  hands  and  half-climbed 
and  was  half-lifted  on  board,  she  added,  "  There 
are  barnacles  on  the  bottom  of  the  Seagull,  uncle 
Tom.  I  saw  them  as  I  went  down." 

"  Oh,  you  careless,  cool,  good-for-naught  girlie  !  " 
said  uncle  Tom.  "  Don't  dare  to  tell  me  you  did 
it  on  purpose,  or  I  shall  shake  you."  And  he 
reached  out  a  helping  hand  to  Teddy,  who  had 
followed  directly  in  Suzette's  wake,  but  who,  dis- 
daining the  proffered  help,  climbed  lightly  on 
board,  and  likewise  shook  himself  like  a  spaniel. 

"That's  just  what  I  need,"  replied  Suzette, 
looking  down  at  the  little  streams  of  water  which 
were  running  off  her  at  every  point  upon  the  deck. 


A  LARK    WITH  UNCLE    TOM.  30! 

"  I  ought  to  be  shaken  or  wrung  out ; "  and  she 
gave  a  twist  here  and  a  squeeze  there. 

"  Well,  we  must  get  you  to  the  house  as  quickly 
as  possible,"  said  uncle  Tom,  "  or  you  '11  have  a 
chill,  you  and  Teddy.  Here,  Jake,  lend  a  hand  ! " 
he  called  out  to  a  man  on  the  wharf,  and  the  Sea- 
gull was  quickly  pulled  alongside. 

But  Teddy  declined  to  go  up  to  the  house  with 
the  others,  though  Dick  said,  "  You  can  have  a 
suit  of  my  clothes  to  put  on,  Teddy."  He  would 
go  directly  home,  he  said.  He  knew,  and  he  re- 
flected ruefully  on  the  fact,  as  he  walked  dripping 
away,  that  he  would  have  to  go  to  bed  at  once,  for 
he  had  no  other  clothes  than  those  he  wore.  He 
knew,  too,  that  Mrs.  White  would  scold  him 
roundly.  She  always  scolded  him,  whatever 
happened.  He  was  the  scapegoat  who  bore  the 
sins  of  the  whole  family.  If  it  rained,  if  Sally  let 
the  fire  go  out,  or  Mary  broke  a  dish,  or  Mrs. 
White  had  a  quarrel  with  a  neighbor,  somehow 
she  always  contrived  to  make  Teddy  responsible 
for  it  all,  and  scolded  him.  Sometimes  he  felt 
badly,  but  generally  he  did  not  care.  Much 
scolding  had  hardened  him. 

But  the  thing  he  did  regret  was  that  he  could 
not  go  and  tell  little  Bess  that  night  all  about  the 


3O2         LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

day's  pleasure,  as  he  had  intended  to  do.  He 
wanted  to  tell  her  how  he  had  seen  the  place 
where  John  Billington  stayed  with  the  Indians, 
and  the  spot  where  the  Pilgrim  women  had  their 
first  New  England  washing-day.  He  wanted  to 
tell  her,  too,  about  Clark's  Island,  where  he  had 
been  many  times  before,  but  never  until  that  day 
had  known  its  story.  And  about  the  baby  seal. 
But  most  of  all  did  he  desire  to  tell  her  about  the 
blue-eyed,  fair-haired  sea  kings.  They  lived  in 
Norway,  it  seems,  and  Teddy  knew  where  Nor- 
way was  on  the  map.  They  were  called  Vikings, 
so  Doctor  Tom  said.  A  few  years  before,  a  great 
ship  had  been  found  in  Norway  —  buried  in  a 
mound  where  it  had  been  hidden  for  one  thousand 
years.  This  was  the  ship  of  one  of  these  Vi- 
kings ;  and  when  he  died  he  was  laid  in  the  ship, 
and  the  two  had  been  buried  together. 

What  capital  stories  Doctor  Tom  could  tell ! 
There  was  the  one  about  the  Chinese  clucks :  how 
they  lived  with  their  owners  in  the  same  boat,  and 
how  they  foraged  all  day  along  the  river  banks, 
and,  when  they  were  called  at  night,  each  came 
hurrying  and  scurrying,  trying  not  to  be  the  last 
one,  because  the  last  one  was  always  whipped. 
And  that  story  about  the  little  German  hen !  that 
would  just  suit  little  Bess  ! 


A  LARK   WITH  UNCLE   TOM.  303 

Well,  he  was  glad  he  hopped  overboard,  any 
way.  He  would  do  it  every  time  for  Suzette,  or 
Dick  either.  So  he  only  just  looked  in  at  the 
honeysuckle-shaded  window  to  say  he  could  n't 
come  that  night,  but  would  be  there  bright  and 
early  the  next  morning. 


CHAPTER   XIX. 

THE    DEPARTURE    OF    A    LITTLE    PILGRIM. 

Dreams  cannot  picture  a  world  so  fair; 
Sorrow  and  pain  may  not  enter  there. 

—  Felicia  Hemans. 

Day  after  day  we  think  what  she  is  doing, 
In  those  bright  realms  of  air. 

—  Longfellow. 

r  I  THE  aquarium,  allusion  to  which  has  been 
•*•  made  in  a  previous  chapter  in  connection 
with  the  baby  seal,  was  no  new  thing.  It  had 
been  started  shortly  after  the  arrival  of  the  two 
in  Old  Pilgrim  Town. 

It  was  a  big  glass  dish,  kept  full  of  sea-water, 
which  stood  upon  a  round  table  in  the  hall.  The 
water  had  to  be  changed  daily,  and  was  brought 
by  Dick  early  each  morning  from  the  dock. 
There  was  a  good  deal  of  slopping  about ;  and  if 
aunt  Pen  had  not  been,  as  I  have  before  intimated, 
a  model  aunt,  there  would  have  been  no  end  of 
fussing.  Though,  after  all,  the  true  head  and 
autocrat  of  the  house  was  not  aunt  Penelope,  but 


DEPARTURE    OF  A  LITTLE  PILGRIM.      305 

Mehitable,  who  ruled  over  and  coddled  them  all  in 
the  most  delightful  and  peremptory  manner. 

But,  though  Mehitable  could  not  understand 
what  pleasure  there  could  be  in  keeping  "them 
nasty  snails  round,"  which  were  "alwa's  a-droppin' 
on  t'  th'  floor  and  a-gettin'  under  foot,"  she  made 
no  serious  objection  to  them,  and  wiped  up  the 
slops  with  the  utmost  amiability. 

The  inhabitants  of  the  aquarium,  however,  were 
not  limited  to  snails,  though  these  far  outnum- 
bered the  others,  and  were,  on  the  whole,  the  most 
interesting.  They  were  extraordinarily  lively  for 
snails ;  that  is,  lively  when  compared  with  the 
popular  notion  concerning  them.  They  liked  to 
crawl  up  to  the  edge  of  the  dish  and  drop  upon 
the  table,  and  thence  to  the  floor,  falling  with  a 
dull  thud.  Around  a  bit  of  board,  laid  upon  the 
table  for  that  purpose,  they  promenaded  by  the 
hour. 

But  they  were  liveliest  at  night,  when  the  gas 
jet  was  lighted  just  above  them.  It  was  then  that 
they  sang,  softly  and  musically,  like  crickets. 
They  were  of  all  sizes,  and  Suzette,  after  a  while, 
learned  to  distinguish  one  from  another — for  even 
a  snail  has  individuality.  The  little  ones  grew 
and  thrived  upon  the  green  seaweed  which  was 


306        LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

gathered  freshly  for  them  each  day.  But  one 
huge  patriarch,  the  object  of  Mehitable's  special 
disgust,  whose  ambition  seemed  to  be  to  tumble 
on  the  floor  as  many  times  as  possible  during 
the  twenty-four  hours,  and  who  was  found  one 
day  half-way  up  the  fine  old  carved  staircase,  was 
discovered  one  morning  lying  dead  by  the  side  of 
the  table.  His  loss  was  greatly  lamented,  and  his 
body  was  scooped  out, '  and  his  shell  laid  by  to 
be  taken  to  the  Waterman  ranch  with  other 
souvenirs  of  the  summer. 

The  star-fish,  too,  died.  But  the  barnacles  lived 
on,  nestled  among  the  smooth,  round  pebbles  at 
the  bottom  of  the  dish,  and  giving  no  other  sign 
of  life  than  the  gentle,  continuous  opening  of 
their  mouths  (?). 

A  tumbler  of  snails  had  also  been  taken  to  little 
Bess,  the  watching  of  which  gave  her  an  infinite 
deal  of  pleasure. 

Little  Bess's  acquaintance  with  birds,  beasts, 
fish,  and  such-like  inhabitants  of  our  world  was 
limited,  but  those  she  did  know  she  knew  well. 
The  English  sparrows  that  lived  in  the  honey- 
suckle all  winter ;  the  crimson-throated  humming- 
bird that  came  every  summer  to  feed  on  its  blos- 
soms ;  the  occasional  butterflies  that  fluttered  in 


DEPARTURE  OF  A  LITTLE  PILGRIM.      307 

and  out  her  window  ;  the  caterpillars  that  crawled 
in  ;  the  spider  in  the  corner  of  the  ceiling,  which 
her  mother  had  spared  at  her  earnest  desire  ;  a 
toad  which  had  its  habitat  under  the  threshold, 
and  sometimes  hopped  in  in  search  of  flies  ;  the 
booming  bumble-bee ;  the  mud-wasps  that  built 
under  the  eaves  of  the  small  gray  house,  and  the 
ants  that  ran  to  and  fro  over  the  window-seat,  — 
of  all  these  she  knew  much  concerning  their 
ways. 

On  the  afternoon  of  the  day  following  the  lark, 
when  Suzette  went  in  to  tell  her  all  about  it,  she 
found  her  excited  and  eager  over  a  fresh  exploit  of 
the  ants.  Somehow,  by  the  closing  of  the  window, 
one  of  their  number  had  been  killed  and  pressed 
into  a  minute  crevice,  and  all  day  long  a  relay 
of  ants  had  been  at  work  trying  to  get  it  out. 
They  had  finally  succeeded,  and  carried  it  off 
triumphantly. 

"  And,  oh  !  I  did  want  to  know  what  they  would 
do  with  it,  an'  so  I  asked  Mr.  Lincoln  —  he  was 
goin'  by,  an'  he  's  our  minister,  you  know,  an'  just 
as  good  t'  me! — an'  so  he  stopped  an'  watched, 
an'  he  said  they  buried  it.  Wasrit  it  funny?" 

Suzette  had  told  her  before  about  the  ants'  cows, 
and  shown  her  the  little  green  things  on  the  rose- 


308         LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

leaves,  and  also  about  the  ants  of  Colorado  which 
make  honey  and  store  it,  not  in  honeycomb  as  the 
bees  do,  but  in  the  bodies  of  some  of  their  num- 
ber. Also  about  the  mound-building  ants  of  the 
Western  plains,  which  roof  their  mounds  with  bits 
of  coal  or  white  pebbles,  with  gold-dust  even,  and 
lovely  gems  —  just  what  the  soil  about  them  hap- 
pens to  contain  ;  and  to  these  stories  little  Bess 
never  wearied  of  listening.  They  were  real  fairy 
stories  of  the  real  fairyland  of  science. 

"Oh,  isn't  this  a  nice  world!"  she  would  say 
after  one  of  these  talks  about  the  birds  and  insects 
of  Colorado  and  its  flowers.  "  An'  the  big  moun- 
tains way  up  to  the  sky,  and  all  white  with  snow 
at  the  top !  An'  that  one  with  the  white  cross  on 
it !  Oh  !  do  you  think  there  can  be  any  world 
nicer  than  this  one  ?  There  's  lots  of  'em.  I  see 
a  big  one  every  night.  It  shines  right  into  my 
window,  an'  twinkles  an'  twinkles." 

But  on  this  day  she  talked  in  a  way  Suzette  had 
never  heard  her  do  before. 

"  Oh,  it 's  all  so  nice  !  "  she  said  in  her  favorite 
phrase,  when  Suzette  had  told  her  about  the 
Krossa-ness.  "  But  Doctor  Tom  says  it  '11  be  ever 
so  much  nicer  there,  an'  happier.  I  don't  see  how 
it  can  be  happier,  though  of  course  Doctor  Tom 


DEPARTURE   OF  A  LITTLE  PILGRIM.       309 

knows.  But  it'll  be  nicer  b'cause  all  the  folks 
can  run  around  there,  an'  nobody  '11  be  sick  any 
more,  an  p'raps  they  '11  fly.  I  asked  Doctor  Tom 
once  if  they  'd  fly,  because  that  's  what  the  cater- 
pillars do  after  they  've  be'n  to  sleep  an'  woke  up, 
an'  he  said  he  thought  they  would.  Oh,  I  should 
like  to  fly  just  like  a  bird  does ! " 

She  looked  so  bright  and  bird-like  when  she  said 
this,  and  gave  such  a  wing-like  lift  with  her  small 
hands,  that,  "  I  declare,  Dick,"  said  Suzette,  when 
she  told  him  about  it  afterwards,  — for,  as  we  have 
seen,  Suzette  always  told  Dick  everything,  —  "I 
thought  she  was  going  to  fly  right  straight  out  of 
the  window." 

Suzette  did  not  need  to  ask  what  place  little  Bess 
meant  by  the  "there."  As  she  looked  at  her 
she  saw  what  she  had  never  noticed  before :  that 
her  face  had  grown  thinner  and  her  eyes  larger. 
She  was  not  any  paler,  perhaps  not  so  pale,  for 
there  was  a  pink  spot  like  a  wild-rose  petal  m 
either  wan  cheek. 

She  looked  very  sweet  and  lovely  ;  so  lovely 
and  sweet  that  somehow  it  made  Suzette's  heart 
ache  to  look  at  her,  and,  to  get  rid  of  the  unaccus- 
tomed pain,  she  turned  the  conversation  by  asking, 
"  How  is  Squawleena  ?  " 


310         LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

Squawleena  —  so  little  Bess  had  told  Suzette 
upon  her  last  visit  —  was  going  through  an  attack 
of  scarlet  fever,  having  only  just  recovered  from 
the  measles,  and  the  result  of  this  untoward  se- 
quence was  being  anxiously  awaited  both  by  her 
distracted  parent  and  little  Bess. 

"We  came  very  near  losing  Squawleena,''  she 
said  ;  and  as  she  turned  from  the  contemplation  of 
the  "there  "  to  the  distresses  of  her  doll  family,  her 
sunny  smile  gave  place  to  the  lugubrious  look  be- 
fitting the  subject.  "  Her  mother  would  have  old 
Doctor  Peters,  an'  he  dosed  an'  dosed  her  with 
quarts  an'  quarts,  an'  give  her  pills  as  big  as  tea- 
cups, an'  she  was  'most  dead.  An'  then  I  insisted 
t'  have  Doctor  Tom.  An'  he  chirked  her  up  right 
off.  She  was  quite  purple  b'fore  he  came,  an'  was 
broke  out  in  th'  most  awful  manner.  She  '11  lose 
her  hair,  Doctor  Tom  says  "  (it  was  made  of  stock- 
ing ravelings),  "  an'  p'r'aps  be  deaf.  But  he  says 
he  hopes  it  '11  be  a  warnin'  to  her  mother  never 
t'  have  old  Doctor  Peters  again." 

Old  Doctor  Peters,  it  may  be  needless  to  ex- 
plain, was  only  a  myth  —  one  of  the  many  who 
inhabited  little  Bess's  make-believe  world. 

Dick  and  Teddy  came  in. 

Teddy  had  already  been  in  once  that  day.     He 


DEPARTURE   OF  A   LITTLE  PILGRIM.       311 

came  early  in  the  morning  and  told  her,  among 
other  things,  the  story  of  the  little  German  hen. 
The  little  hen  lived  a^s  much  as  a  hundred  years 
ago,  Teddy  thought,  though  he  was  not  quite  sure, 
being  rather  lame  on  dates.  And  there  was  a 
good  man,  a  very  good  man,  and  some  wicked 
folks  wanted  to  put  him  in  prison.  Why,  Teddy 
did  not  know.  So  the  good  man  hid  in  a  big  gar- 
ret, a  very  big  garret  it  must  have  been,  because 
there  were  lots  of  other  things  besides  a  great  big 
pile  of  lumber  in  it.  He  hid,  this  good  man, 
under  this  pile  of  lumber,  and  when  the  wicked 
men  came  to  look  for  him,  they  could  n't  find 
him.  They  never  thought  to  look  under  the 
lumber. 

When  they  went  away  he  was  awful  hungry, 
and  dry,  too,  Teddy  said,  and  he  had  n't  any  water, 
or  a  single  thing  to  eat.  But  in  the  night  it 
snowed,  and  he  got  up,  and  put  his  hand  out  of 
the  window  on  the  roof  and  got  a  handful  of  snow 
for  water.  But  he  had  n't  a  thing. to  eat. 

The  next  morning  early,  a  little  hen  came  into 
the  garret.  How  she  got  there,  Teddy  did  n't 
know  ;  through  a  window  left  open,  p'r'aps,  —  little 
Bess  suggested,  —  but  at  any  rate,  up  she  came  to 
lay,  and  a  funny  place  for  a  hen  to  lay  it  was, 
Teddy  thought,  but  the  story  was  all  true. 


312         LITTLE   PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

Well,  she  laid  an  egg,  —  she  was  a  little  white 
hen  and  very  pretty.  —  and  then  she  cackled, 
rather  soft,  "  cut-cut-cut-dah,cut !  cut-cut-cut-dah- 
cut !  here-here-here-it  is  !  cut-cut-cut-dah-cut." 
And  when  she  had  gone  off,  out  of  the  window 
or  somewhere,  the  good  man  came  out  from  under 
the  lumber,  and  took  her  little  egg,  and  cracked 
it,  and  ate  it. 

Every  day  she  came  and  laid  her  egg ;  and 
every  day  the  good  man  cracked  the  egg,  and  ate 
it.  And  that  was  every  single  thing  he  had  to  eat 
for  a  week  —  that  and  the  snow  on  the  roof. 

The  folks  who  lived  in  the  house  were  friends  of 
this  good  man,  but  they  did  n't  know  he  was  there. 
And  one  day  the  man  and  his  wife  came  up  into 
this  garret  and  sat  down  and  talked.  And  they 
talked  about  this  good  man,  —  how  good  he  was, 
and  how  the  wicked  men  wanted  to  get  him,  and 
they  had  looked  everywhere  for  him,  and  could  n't 
find  him,  and  so  they  had  gone  away  out  of  the 
town.  And  they  wondered  where  this  good  man 
could  be  hid  so  secret. 

And  then  when  he  heard  that,  he  just  came  right 
out  from  the  lumber,  and  scared  the  man  and  his 
wife  'most  to  death,  at  first,  Teddy  said,  till  they 
sec  who  it  was.  And  he  told  them  all  about  the 


DEPARTURE  OF  A  LITTLE  PILGRIM.      313 

little  white  hen,  and  how  she  had  laid  an  egg  for 
him  every  day.  And  the  woman  said  she  had 
hunted  and  hunted  for  that  little  white  hen's  nest, 
because  she  'd  heard  her  cackling  every  day  some- 
where. But  she  could  n't  ever  find  it,  of  course, 
Teddy  said,  because  there  was  n't  any  nest. 

But,  of  course,  the  egg  had  n't  been  enough 
for  the  good  man,  as  much  as  he  ought  to  have  to 
eat,  and  he  was  awful  hungry  and  pale  and  thin, 
and  so  they  took  him  down  and  give  him  a  good 
square  meal. 

That  was  the  story  of  the  little  German  hen 
as  Teddy  told  it  to  little  Bess.  She  thought  it 
was  about  the  nicest  and  sweetest  story  she  ever 
heard.  'Twas  like  the  story  of  Elijah  and  the 
ravens  feeding  him.  And  she  hoped  they  were 
always  good  to  that  little  hen. 

After  Teddy  came  in  the  second  time  with  Dick 
they  sat  around  her  couch  and  told  her  about  the 
accident  of  the  day  before ;  how  Suzette  had  tum- 
bled into  the  pink  sea,  and  how  Teddy  had  jumped 
in  after  her.  And  when  a  startled  look  came  into 
little  Bess's  eyes  at  this,  Suzette  and  Teddy  had 
to  do  it  all  over  again  in  pantomime,  plunging  off 
the  chairs  on  to  the  floor,  till  she  laughed  long 
and  heartily. 


314        LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

"There  was  no  danger,"  said  Suzette.  "  When 
I  was  going  down  I  knew  L  should  come  up  again 
just  as  I  do  when  I  dive  really.  It 's  great  fun  to 
swim,  little  Bess.  It 's  almost  as  good  as  flying." 

"  And  Teddy  jumped  in  to  help  you  !  That  was 
nice  of  Teddy,"  said  little  Bess. 

"  And  what  did  Mehitable  say  ? "  she  asked. 
For  little  Bess  knew  just  what  a  tyrant  Mehitable 
was.  For  sometimes,  when  she  begged  Doctor 
Tom  to  stay  a  little  longer  and  tell  another  story, 
he  would  say,  "  I  can't.  If  I  don't  get  home  to 
supper,  Mehitable  will  give  it  to  the  cat,  and  send 
me  to  bed  without  any." 

To  make  believe  that  he  was  a  naughty  boy 
and  Mehitable  was  going  to  punish  him  was  the 
very  funniest  of  his  make-believes,  little  Bess 
thought,  except  pretending  that  he  was  cross. 
Doctor  Tom  really  and  truly  cross  !  And  her 
delight  was  exquisite  when,  right  in  the  midst  of 
a  merry  laugh  all  round,  he  suddenly  thrust  his 
head  into  the  window  and,  scowling  fiercely, 
growled  out :  — 

"Fee,  fi,  fo,  fum, 

I  smell  the  blood  of  a  ranch-worn-//;*. 
Be  she  alive  or  be  she  dead, 
I  '11  take  her  home  and  send  her  to  bed." 


DEPARTURE    OF  A   LITTLE  PILGRIM.      315 

Suzette  replied  to  her  question  that  Mehitable, 
who  was  afraid  of  the  water,  and  had  never  been 
persuaded  in  all  her  life  to  get  into  a  boat,  had 
declared  it  was  just  what  she  had  expected  all 
summer,  that  "some  of  'em  would  come  home 
drownded,  an'  she  had  told  Jason  so.  An'  Jason 
only  laughed  at  her  an*  said  he  guessed  they  knew 
enough  to  keep  out  o'  water.  Jason  alwa's  knew 
such  a  dre'tful  sight  himself,  there  was  no  tellin' 
him  nothin'.  If  he  'd  'a'  lived  in  Old  Testament 
times,  Solomon  never  'd  'a'  be'n  heard  of.  The 
wisest  man  would  'a'  be'n  Jason  Wimpenny." 

Then  they  all  laughed  again,  and  Doctor  Tom 
with  the  rest.  But  pretty  soon  he  asked  how 
long  they  had  been  there,  and  said  it  was  sunset, 
and  supper  would  soon  be  ready.  Mehitable  had 
a  delicious  peach  shortcake  about  ready  to  go  into 
the  oven  when  he  came  away,  and  on  no  account 
must  it  be  suffered  to  get  cold.  And  if  they 
would  come  directly,  Dick  should  bring  a  gener- 
ous section  down  to  little  Bess,  carefully  put  be- 
tween two  of  the  old  pink  plates  that  belonged 
to  his  grandmother,  and  which  she  (little  Bess) 
thought  so  pretty. 

But  instead  of  going  directly,  it  seemed  as 
though  they  would  never  get  off.  Dick  and  Su- 


316         LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

zette  kept  running  back  to  the  window  to  say 
things.  Never  had  it  been  so  difficult  to  get  away 
from  the  little  creature,  who  greeted  each  return 
with  a  fresh  smile.  Uncle  Tom  pretended  to 
scold,  and  then  came  back  himself  to  ask  how 
Squawleena's  appetite  was,  and  if  the  breaking- 
out  had  disappeared.  But  at  last  they  did  go 
away,  and  found  Mehitable  pouring  the  cream, 
not  over  one,  but  two  shortcakes  ;  one  as  big 
almost  as  the  shield  of  Achilles,  the  other  small, 
round,  and  comely,  having  been  baked  in  a  saucer 
especially  for  little  Bess.  And,  a  small  island  in 
a  sea  of  cream,  it  was  taken  down  to  her  between 
the  pink  plates  of  old  china.  Would  that  all 
tyrants  had  so  kindly  hearts  as  was  that  of 
Mehitable ! 

That  evening  they  were  at  the  east  window  in 
uncle  Tom's  own  room.  They  were  in  darkness 
illuminated  only  by  the  gleam  of  the  electric  light 
on  Cole's  Hill.  Uncle  Tom  was  resting  from  his 
day's  work  in  his  easy-chair,  and  Suzette  was 
standing  beside  him  with  his  arm  around  her  in 
the  dear,  familiar  fashion.  Across  the  bay  the 
Gurnet  lights  burned  brightly  and  stedfastly,  as 
though  they  knew  their  mission  was  to  save  life. 


DEPARTURE   OF  A  LITTLE  PILGRIM.      317 

Clouds  were  gathering  in  the  north-west.  The  air 
was  sultry,  and  at  intervals  was  heard  the  low 
rumbling  of  thunder.  A  vessel  was  coming  in, 
and  the  water  in  her  wake  looked  like  liquid  fire. 
It  was  a  phosphorescent  sea,  the  first  Suzette  and 
Dick  had  ever  seen.  They  had  been  talking  about 
it,  and  then  came  a  long  silence. 

"  Uncle  Tom ! "  said  Suzette,  breaking  the 
silence  at  last. 

"  Well,  pussy  ?  " 

"  What  do  you  think  about  little  Bess  ?  "  The 
question  had  been  upon  her  lips  ever  since  they 
came  home.  But  not  until  now  had  she  found 
courage  to  ask  it. 

"I  think,"  replied  uncle  Tom,  hesitating,  too,  a 
little,  "  I  think  her  life  of  pain  is  near  its  end." 

The  next  morning,  early,  came  a  messenger  in 
haste  from  the  small  gray  house.  It  was  Teddy, 
who,  in  broken  words,  said  that  little  Bess  had 
fallen  asleep  and  they  could  not  wake  her.  Would 
Doctor  Tom  come  at  once  ?  He  went  with  Teddy, 
and  close  upon  them  followed  Dick  and  Suzette. 

The  room  was  very  silent  as  the  two  entered. 
It  was  still  so  early  no  one  was  astir  in  the  neigh- 
borhood. Little  Bess's  mother  was  sitting  beside 


318         LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

the  bed  whereon  she  lay  sleeping  softly,  and 
Doctor  Tom  stood  beside  it  holding  her  hand. 
The  sweet  air  of  the  morning  came  in  at  the  open 
window,  lightly  stirring  the  leaves  of  the  honey- 
suckle as  it  passed.  There  on  the  couch  was  the 
little  empty  wooden  frame,  and  the  dolls  stood  or 
lay  upon  the  table  in  their  usual  order. 

Colonel  Archibald  Yell  jumped  in  at  the  win- 
dow, shaking  his  tinkling  bell,  but,  not  finding  his 
little  friend  in  her  accustomed  place  —  for  she  had 
always  been  an  early  riser,  and  often  left  her  bed 
for  her  couch  at  dawn  —  made  search  for  her,  and, 
finding  her,  lay  down  beside  her,  purring  content- 
edly. 

As  she  slept  on,  smiles  came  and  went  upon  her 
face.  Her  dreams  were  evidently  happy  ones. 

Suddenly  she  opened  her  eyes.  They  were 
always  exceedingly  beautiful  eyes,  for  they  were 
of  that  luminous  gray  that  radiates  light  as  the 
stars  do.  But  never  before  had  they  seemed  to 
Suzette  and  Dick  so  beautiful.  The  light  seemed 
to  stream  from  them  as  from  some  hidden  and  in- 
exhaustible source.  And  they  were  intently  fixed 
as  upon  some  one  whom  she  recognized,  and  were 
full  of  unspeakable  love. 

"  Is  He  there,  little  Bess  ? "  asked  Doctor  Tom, 
in  a  clear,  distinct  voice,  "  Do  you  see  Him  ?  " 


DEPARTURE    OF  A   LITTLE  PILGRIM.      319 

There  was  no  answer,  though  the  lips  moved. 
But  the  hand  which  Doctor  Tom  held  clasped  his 
eagerly. 

" '  Suffer  the  little  children  to  come  unto  me,'  " 
he  added,  and  her  eyelids  gently  fell. 

They  would  have  thought  that  she  had  again 
fallen  asleep  if,  after  a  moment,  Doctor  Tom  had 
not  stooped  and  kissed  her,  saying  softly,  "  Good- 
by,  little  Bess  !  " 


CHAPTER   XX. 

WESTWARD  HO  ! 

I  see  the  living  tide  roll  on; 

It  crowns  with  naming  towers 
The  icy  cape  of  Labrador, 

The  Spaniard's  "  land  of  flowers." 
It  streams  beyond  the  splintered  ridge 

That  parts  the  northern  shores; 
From  eastern  rock  to  sunset  wave 

The  continent  is  ours!  — Holmes. 

'THEN  days  passed,  and  on  the  evening  of  the 
-*-  eleventh,  Dick  had  a  letter  from  his  mother. 
As  I  have  said,  he  had  a  letter  every  day,  he  and 
Suzette.  A  little  personal  letter  always,  and  every 
fourth  or  fifth  day,  a  joint  letter,  a  kind  of  journal 
of  what  took  place  daily  at  the  ranch,  with  mes- 
sages from  Chiquita  and  Pepito  and  the  dogs.  As 
soon  as  the  mother  had  sent  off  one  journal  letter 
she  began  another,  just  as  Thackeray  says  Dean 
Swift  did,  who  wrote  so  many  letters  to  Stella 
they  quite  fill  a  big  book. 

"  He  can  not  bear  to  let  go  her  little  kind  hand, 
as  it  were,"  says  Thackeray. 

320 


WESTWARD  HO!  32! 

And  so  it  was  with  this  mother  far  away  in  Colo- 
rado. She  could  not  bear  to  let  go  the  hands  of 
these  two. 

But  this  letter  was  a  special  letter  to  Dick, 
written  after  she  had  heard  about  little  Bess.  For 
Suzette,  with  many  tears  dropping  upon  the  paper, 
had  written  her  mother  all  about  her  falling  asleep. 

It  was  not  the  first  time,  as  you  may  suppose, 
that  she  had  heard  of  her  or  of  Teddy.  For  Dick 
and  Suzette  had  kept  a  kind  of  journal  too,  telling 
what  they  did  and  where  they  went,  what  they 
said  and  heard  said  of  the  many  interesting  places 
and  things  about  them.  And  Dick,  who  had  a 
capital  knack  at  drawing,  illustrated  this  journal 
as  they  went  along,  with  pen-and-ink  sketches,  and 
so  Mrs.  Richard  knew  exactly  how  the  small  gray 
house  looked,  and  the  dolls,  and  Colonel  Yell,  as 
well  as  the  site  of  the  old  fort  and  Pilgrim  Spring, 
and  other  weightier  matters. 

She  had  thought  and  planned  many  things  con- 
cerning Teddy.  For  she  had  written  to  Doctor 
Tom  and  aunt  Penelope,  after  she  had  heard  of 
his  motherless  condition,  to  ask  about  him,  and 
uncle  Tom  had  replied  in  a  long  letter,  in  which 
he  had  told  her  that  although  a  rough  he  was  by 
no  means  a  bad  boy,  and  had  "  the  making  of  a 
man  in  him." 


322         LITTLE   PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

He  had  told  her,  too,  as  he  did  Suzette,  that 
little  Bess's  life  of  pain  was  nearing  its  end,  and 
he  almost  dreaded  the  effect  of  her  death  upon 
Teddy.  "For  she  seems  to  be  the  only  creature 
the  poor  little  fellow  has  to  love,  and  I  often  won- 
der what  will  become  of  him  when  she  is  gone." 

So,  after  the  arrival  of  Suzette's  tear-stained 
letter,  Mrs.  Richard  sat  down  and  wrote  to 
Dick  ;  and  here  is  the  letter,  which  is  a  model 
mother-letter,  for  the  true  mother  never  forgets 
that  there  are  other  children  in  the  world  besides 
her  own  :  — 

My  dear  Dick,  —  I  have  heard  with  sorrow  of  the  death 
of  your  little  Bess,  and  with  joy  too.  You  are  old  enough, 
I  think,  to  understand  what  that  means  —  how  we  may  have 
sorrow  and  joy  at  the  same  time  and  about  the  same  thing. 

There  is  joy  for  little  Bess  because  her  pain  is  over,  and 
in  the  new  life  which  has  now  begun  with  her  there  is  to  be 
no  such  loss  as  she  suffered  in  this.  We  do  not  know  just 
what  that  life  is.  But  we  do  know  that  this  beautiful  world 
is  only  a  faint  type  of  that  into  which  she  has  gone,  and  that 
there  God  wipes  away  all  tears  from  all  eyes. 

But  my  heart  aches  for  Teddy.  Poor  little  fellow !  I 
wish  I  had  him  here  this  moment,  that  I  might  try,  at  least, 
to  comfort  him.  And  you  must  be  very  gentle  and  tender 
with  him,  my  son.  Remember  that  he  has  never  had  a 
mother  to  love  him  and  bear  with  him. 


WESTWARD  HO!  323 

"Just  as  if  I  could  ever  forget  that !  "  said  Dick 
to  himself,  when  he  got  to  this  point  in  the  letter. 
And  he  had  to  take  out  his  handkerchief  and  wipe 
his  eyes.  Then  he  braced  himself  firmly  and  went 
on  :  — 

No  matter  how  he  may  act,  do  not  think  him  strange. 
A  wounded  animal,  you  know,  for  you  have  seen  that,  creeps 
away  by  itself  and  wants  to  be  alone  with  its  pain.  And 
that  is  the  way  sorrow  affects  many  people,  and  especially 
does  it  affect  children  so  —  children  who  have  no  mothers  to 
go  to.  So  do  not  think  it  strange  if  Teddy  should  seem  to 
avoid  you. 

"  Queer  she  should  know  that !  "  thought  Dick. 
"  Mamma  knows  about  everything." 

His  heart  is  very  sore,  and  even  the  kindliest  touch  hurts. 
He  can  not  bear  it.  But  you  must  not  let  him  go  away  by 
himself.  You  must  seek  him  out  and  let  him  know  you  love 
him.  Cheer  him  with  kind  words,  so  that  he  shall  not  feel 
that  he  is  all  alone  in  this  great  world  now  his  little  friend  is 
gone.  And  choose  your  words  well,  my  child.  Do  not  talk 
about  little  Bess  to  him.  If  he  wishes  to  talk  of  her  he  will 
do  so. 

And  now  I  have  something  to  tell  you  which  I  think  will 
help  you  to  comfort  him.  Papa  and  I  have  been  thinking 
long  about  the  plan  of  having  Teddy  come  home  with  you. 
Uncle  Tom  writes  well  of  him,  and  if  he  comes  it  will  be  as 
one  of  our  family  —  your  brother,  who  will  share  everything 
with  you. 


324         LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

"  Hurrah  ! "  shouted  Dick  just  here,  and  so 
loud  that  Suzette,  who  was  sitting  upon  the 
landing  of  the  staircase  by  the  tall  old  clock 
and  weaving  all  sorts  of  fancies  concerning  the 
English  carvings,  ran  in  to  see  what  he  was 
about.  "  Mamma  's  a  brick  !  a  jolly  brick  !  "  he 
said,  and  then  he  read  the  last  sentence  over 
again  to  Suzette,  and  they  finished  the  letter 
together. 

It  is  not  without  a  good  deal  of  thought  that  we  have 
come  to  this  decision,  and  it  will  bring  a  good  deal  of  respon- 
sibility upon  you  as  well  as  upon  us.  But  I  trust  my  boy 
is  ready  to  take  upon  himself  responsibilities  and  do  his  part 
in  saving  for  a  good  and  noble  manhood  this  little  waif.  You 
have  already  come  to  love  him,  and  to  love  everything  is 
possible.  You  will  have  to  practice  self-denial  and  forbear- 
ance, to  bring  into  daily  practice  the  Golden  Rule ;  and  if 
you  think  you  are  not  equal  to  this  we  shall  have  to  abandon 
the  scheme.  But  if  you  are,  go  to  Teddy  when  you  get  this 
and  tell  him.  And  God  bless  you,  my  dear  boy  Dick ! 

"  Oh,  is  n't  that  good  of  papa  and  mamma  ! " 
exclaimed  Suzette,  as  Dick  both  relieved  and  ex- 
pressed his  feelings  by  tossing  the  letter  to  the 
ceiling,  only  to  catch  it  and  toss  it  again.  "  I 
think  we  have  the  best  father  and  mother  in  the 
world.  Teddy  going  to  Colorado  !  Oh,  won't  he 


WESTWARD  HO!  325 

like  it !  And  he  shall  have  Chiquita ;  he  won't  be 
afraid  to  ride  Chiquita.  And  I  can  ride  Sancho ; 
I  can  manage  Sancho." 

"Oh,  pooh  !  just  as  if  Teddy  can't  ride  Sancho! 
He  '11  make  a  splendid  rider,  he  's  so  fearless.  Oh, 
won't  it  be  fun  to  teach  him  ! " 

"Anj  I  shall  have  two  brothers,"  said  Suzette, 
exultingly.  "  Only  you  '11  always  be  the  twin- 
brother,  '  heart  of  my  heart,'  as  pipa  says.  But 
do  go  and  find  him  and  tell  him  right  off." 

But  this  was  easier  said  than  done,  for  Dick  had 
only  caught  two  glimpses  of  him  since  the  day  lit- 
tle Bess  died,  and  when  he  questioned  Mrs.  White 
concerning  him  she  replied  that  she  "  did  n't  know 
nothin'  about  where  he  was,  and,  what 's  more,  she 
did  n't  care  ;  he  was  gettin'  jes'  good  f'r  nothin', 
and  did  n't  earn  his  salt." 

Dick  looked  all  around  his  usual  haunts,  the 
wharves.  He  explored  every  part  of  Burial  Hill. 
He  walked  along  the  shore  road  to  the  railway 
station.  But  he  found  no  Teddy.  Then  he 
thought  of  the  little  grave  in  the  cemetery,  and 
he  went  there,  and  Teddy  was  sitting  beside  it. 
His  head  was  upon  his  knees,  and  he  did  not  hear 
Dick's  step  upon  the  turf.  Dick  sat  down  beside 
him,  and  put  his  arm  around  his  neck.  Teddy 


326         LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

seemed  to  know,  without  looking,  who  it  was,  and 
so  they  sat  for  some  minutes. 

At  last  Dick  said  cheerfully,  "  I  've  got  a  letter 
from  my  mother  about  you,  Teddy,  that  I  guess 
you  '11  like  to  hear.  May  n't  I  read  it  ?  "  and  then 
Teddy  lifted  his  head,  and  Dick  saw  that  his  face 
was  very  dirty,  and  there  were  tear-streaks  in  the 
dirt.  His  hair  was  rough,  too,  and  he  seemed  to 
have  gone  back  to  the  old  disorderly  ways  before 
he  knew  Dick. 

So  Dick  read  the  letter  slowly  and  in  a  cheer- 
ful voice,  and  as  he  read  a  brighter  look  came 
into  Teddy's  hopeless  little  face  —  a  look  of  bright 
astonishment. 

"  Wants  me  t'  come  home  with  you !  "  he  ex- 
claimed incredulously,  as  Dick  finished.  "  I  go  to 
Colorado  !  Y'  don't  mean  it !  " 

"That's  about  it,"  replied  Dick.  "And  you'll 
have  grand  times,  I  tell  you  !  There 's  Sancho  to 
ride.  He  's  a  jolly  pony  !  Jo  trained  him,  and  he 
can  leap  a  ditch,  and  walk  on  his  hind  legs,  and 
play  '  whoop-and-hide.'  And  there's  the  sheep 
and  the  collies.  I  tell  you,  Teddy,  it  '11  take  you 
six  years  to  learn  all  about  the  sheep !  And 
there 's  mamma.  'T  is  n't  every  boy  can  have 
such  a  mother  as  mamma  for  the  taking." 


WESTWARD  HO!  337 

"  She  must  be  awful  good  t'  want  me,"  said 
Teddy  solemnly.  "  I  ain't  good,  I  know  I  ain't ; 
but  I  mean  to  be.  I  '11  try,  yes,  I  '11  try  awful 
hard.  Mrs.  White  has  be'n  jest  as  hateful ! 
A-diggin'  at  me  ever  —  ever  —  sence  little  Bess 
died.  An'  I  know  I  'd  ought  n't  t'  be'n  sarcy,  but 
she  said  little  Bess  was  nothin'  but  a  trouble  an'  a 
plague,  an'  'twas  jest  as  well  that  —  that  —  oh, 
little  Bess  ! "  and,  with  a  passionate  cry  and  a 
flood  of  tears,  he  threw  himself  upon  the  mound, 
where  the  grass  was  already  beginning  to  spring 
afresh  above  his  little  friend. 

I  do  not  think  Dick  would  like  to  have  me  tell 
exactly  what  he  did  the  next  few  minutes.  Only 
I  will  say  that  he  comforted  Teddy  in  the  spirit  of 
our  divine  Lord,  who  you  remember  went  near  to 
those  in  affliction  and  laid  his  hands  upon  them. 

With  that  burst  of  tears  the  bitterness  seemed 
to  be  washed  out  of  Teddy's  grief,  and  he  wiped 
his  eyes  at  last  with  a  more  cheerful  heart,  and 
arm  in  arm  the  two  boys  walked  away,  the  one 
tall,  manly,  well-dressed,  the  child  of  good  fortune, 
who  had  never  know  in  his  own  person  sorrow  or 
want ;  the  other  not  quite  as  tall,  but  equally  as 
manly,  shabby  in  dress,  and  whose  short  life  had 
been  one  struggle  with  the  ills  and  pains  of 


328         LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

poverty.  It  would  have  been  difficult  to  tell 
which  was  the  happier,  the  boy  who  was  to  share 
his  good  fortune  or  the  one  who  was  to  accept 
that  share. 

So  it  was  that  when,  on  a  day  in  late  Sep- 
tember, Dick  and  Suzette  sailed  away  from  Old 
Pilgrim  Town,  Teddy  was  with  them,  no  longer 
ragged  and  unkempt,  but  neatly  clad  in  a  suit 
that  Doctor  Tom  had  given  him  —  for  he  had  in- 
sisted upon  fitting  out  Teddy  himself  —  and  with 
his  black,  curling  hair  carefully  brushed,  and  his 
hands  carefully  cared  for  with  the  toilet  set  Miss 
Penelope  had  bestowed  upon  him. 

I  can  not  say  that  he  was  altogether  cheerful  as 
he  watched  the  spires  and  towering  trees  of  the 
town  gradually  fade  in  the  distance,  but  he  was 
profoundly  happy,  and  the  look  he  turned  upon 
Doctor  Tom,  as  the  last  faint  outline  disappeared, 
was  full  of  gratitude.  For  Doctor  Tom  —  now 
uncle  Tom  to  Teddy,  as  well  as  to  the  other  two, 
a  fact  the  recognition  of  which  filled  him  with  the 
utmost  humility  —  was  going  up  to  Boston  with 
them  to  place  the  three  in  charge  of  the  friends 
with  whom  Dick  and  Suzette  had  made  their  east- 
ward journey,  and  with  whom  they  were  to  return 
Westward  ho ! 


WESTWARD  HO!  329 

There  is  one  Pilgrim  story  which  has  been 
awaiting  its  proper  time  and  place,  which  seems  to 
be  just  here,  and  that  is  the  romantic  story  of  the 
Bradford  History  —  for  so  it  is  called,  though  it  is 
really  a  journal  of  the  Plymouth  plantation,  cover- 
ing the  years  from  1622  to  1646.  Although  for  a 
long  series  of  years  this  manuscript  was  lost,  yet 
it  was  known  there  was  such  a  one,  because  cer- 
tain historians  of  that  period,  Morton,  Prince,  and 
Hutchinson,  had  made  use  of  it. 

It  was  last  known  to  have  been  in  the  tower  of 
the  Old  South  Church  in  Boston,  carefully  kept 
there  with  other  important  papers  till  the  time,  in 
1775-76,  when  the  British  soldiery  were  in  that 
city  and  made  use  of  the  Old  South  Church  for  a 
riding-school.  It  then  disappeared,  together  with 
Governor  Bradford's  Letter-Book,  and  it  was 
thought  they  had  both  been  destroyed.  But  a 
member  of  the  Massachusetts  Historical  Society 
came  across  the  Letter-Book  by  chance  in  a  grocer's 
shop  in  Halifax,  Nova  Scotia,  and  sent  it  to  the 
rooms  of  that  society  in  Boston,  where  it  is  now 
carefully  kept. 

But  no  trace  of  the  history  was  found  till  185$, 
when  the  discovery  was  made  that  it  was  in  the 
library  of  the  Bishop  of  London,  England,  at  his 
palace  at  Fulham. 


330         LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AT  PLYMOUTH. 

There  it  still  remains,  though  we  must  all  agree 
with  Suzette,  who  said,  as  she  looked  at  the  torn 
and  defaced  Letter-Book,  that  it  was  "  a  shame 
that  the  History  was  not  there  too."  It  has, 
however,  been  carefully  copied  and  printed,  and  so 
we  have  the  history  of  those  heroic  times  — heroic 
as  the  Trojan  days  of  Homer,  or  as  those  of 
Roman  story  —  from  one  who,  like  ^Eneas,  not 
only  saw  them,  but  was  a  part  of  them. 

How  the  History  made  its  journey  from  the 
tower  of  the  Old  South  Church  in  Boston  to  the 
shelves  of  the  Fulham  Library  we  shall  probably 
never  know.  But  we  all  have  the  liberty  of  specu- 
lating about  it  as  we  please,  which  Suzette  did  to 
her  heart's  content,  at  last  suggesting,  in  sheer 
despair  of  any  rational  certainty,  that  it  had  been 
spirited  through  the  air  like  the  magic  carpet  in 
the  Arabian  Nights. 

This  story  has  been  kept  to  the  last,  as  the 
Letter-Book  of  Governor  Bradford  was  the  last 
glimpse  Dick  and  Suzette  had  of  Old  Pilgrim 
Town,  and  they  lingered  long  over  its  time-stained 
pages. 

They  had  left  the  rooms,  and  were  going  slowly 
up  Tremont  Street,  when  a  policeman,  standing  at 
the  Parker  House  corner,  fixed  his  eyes  upon 


WESTWARD  HO!  331 

them.  A  broad  smile  illuminated  his  round  and 
rosy  face. 

"  Hillo  ! "  he  remarked,  as  he  espied  Teddy, 
who  touched  his  hat  with  what  might  have  been 
taken  for  a  long-established  grace.  "  Ye  did  n't 
come  up  as  a  stowaway  this  time,  I  '11  bet ! " 

"  No,"  replied  Teddy,  as  Dick  and  Suzette 
moved  slowly  on,  and  speaking  with  great  exact- 
ness. "  I  came  up  with  them.  I  'm  going  home 
with  them.  I  'm  going  to  Colorado  to  live." 

The  policeman  whistled. 

"  Ye  don't  say  so  !  Goin'  t'  live  t'  Colorado  ! 
Well,  well,  I  'm  glad  for  ye.  But  how 's  little 
Bess?" 

Teddy  hesitated  a  moment.  A  soft  mist  came 
over  his  eyes. 

"  Little  Bess  ? "  he  said,  looking  wistfully  at  the 
policeman.  "  Little  Bess  ?  God  's  took  her." 

Such  is  the  force  of  habit  and  association  ! 
And  I  think  if  Teddy  should  live  till  the  three- 
score years  and  ten,  and  should  acquire  the  most 
cultured  speech,  he  would  still,  in  thinking  or 
speaking  of  little  Bess,  go  back  to  the  language  of 
those  ungrammatical  days. 


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